Star Wars: White Snow: Commencement
by Vhetin1138
Summary: Book 1: A Mandalorian bounty hunter takes a contract that will change his life forever, and an Imperial fighter pilot begins a journey that will take her across the galaxy and back. See reviews for full synopsis. Rated T for violence and some language.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**BlueSend Forest Complex, Corulag**

The roiling, purple-black clouds sent a brilliant fork of lightning through the air. The accompanying clap of thunder was close enough to deafen a man, but the soldier in white had grown used to the sound by now. Months of being assigned to an outpost built under endlessly-stormy skies tended to acclimatize one to traumatic intrusions on the senses. Additionally, his armor helped keep back the worst of the sound. His helmet's auditory dampeners automatically filtered down the decibel level of his surroundings to protect his hearing. So when thunder roared overhead, it sounded like little more than a discontented grumble.

Lieutenant Axes Darion, otherwise known by his serial number TX-219, squinted through the eye-shaped visors of his helmet, watching rain dribble down the transparisteel just centimeters from his eyes. He wiped his visor with an irritated huff of a sigh, clearing the rainwater that obscured his vision. Where they were going, he was sure he'd need it.

The forest ahead looked dark and foreboding, but he knew local patrols kept the wildlife a good distance from the prison complex. The last thing Command needed was some jumped-up Treewalker getting too near the perimeter defenses and frying itself on the electrified barrier fences. Such an occurrence could potentially short out power to the entire facility and _that_ would be catastrophic.

He sighed as he hefted his rifle, marching with the others toward the treeline. _When I first heard I was being transferred to a maximum security prison, _he thought to himself, _I thought this post would be exciting. Should have known that guard duty is guard duty, no matter where you're assigned._

For a max-sec prison, BlueSend was remarkably boring. The prisoners misbehaved from time to time, but it was all bluster. A cautionary stun shot from one of the guards put them in their place quickly enough and they quieted down right away. After months of droning through day after dull day, TX-219 almost wished a prisoner or two would manage to orchestrate an escape. It would at least give the guards some target practice.

"Eyes sharp," their patrol leader growled from the head of the group. They entered the tree line, the pattering rain tapering off as they passed under the sheltering branches of the forest's canopy. TX wiped his visor clear, barely able to see through the water-streaked apertures in his helmet.

"_Eyes sharp for what?_" said his patrol buddy marching next to him. He spoke over their private helmet-to-helmet communicators, so the patrol leader couldn't overhear them. "_These patrols haven't caught sight of anything bigger than a Twig Monkey in weeks. There's nothing in this forest_."

"Still," TX replied, "it beats guard duty back at base. I'd rather be out here than marching up and down that barrier wall any day."

"_At least BlueSend is _clean_," _his buddy murmured. He lifted his boot, shaking his head to find the pristine white armor smeared and splattered with a thick layer of black-brown mud. "_It'll take hours to get this crap scrubbed off."_

"Just keep focused on the patrol," TX-219 said. "Shift's done at nineteen-hundred and the gravi-ball game is right after that."

"_Yeah. Something to look forward to, at least._"

A bird called forlornly somewhere off in the trees and thunder rumbled far overhead again, but the forest was otherwise silent. TX checked his holographic head's-up display – which showed him readouts of everything his suit's scanners could pick up, from comm channels to the patrol's medical status to the current ambush probability of their immediate surroundings – and saw that their patrol route would carry them right through the Dark Zone, where the dense foliage would cut off their communication back to BlueSend command.

TX hefted his rifle again, struggling to maintain his pace in the thick layer of mud under his feet. It looked like the entire six-man patrol was having similar difficulties. They were all slipping or stumbling at one point or another, even the patrol leader, and at one point a soldier lost his footing completely and went tumbling into the mud.

_This rain isn't letting up any time soon_, TX-219 thought, wiping off his visor again. _If this keeps up, Corulag will get more annual rain than Kamino._

He was about to say as much to his buddy when their patrol leader raised a fist, ordering them to come to a stop. The group slowly filed to a halt behind him, slipping a little in the mud. Their leader shouldered his rifle and snapped, "We're entering the Dark Zone. Keep your comms off and your weapons ready."

"_Sir_!" came the dutiful response. The patrol troopers cycled up their weapons, ready to fire at a moment's notice. At the patrol leader's hand gesture, they set off again at a slow, steady pace. TX shivered a little despite himself. The Dark Zone had always creeped him out; the trees grew so dense here, their branches so interwoven, that they interfered with comm signals. It was one of the few places near the prison where a person could be completely cut off. The forest here was dark and dangerous, with tree branches winding across the road like the tendrils of some giant forest beast. The entire area had such an eerie feeling about it that the locals had likened the sensation to the old Jedi descriptions of the Dark Side of the Force, hence it's name: the Dark Zone. Fortunately, it was only a mile or so from command, so any sounds of commotion would probably be heard back at base and reinforcements were only minutes away.

Another blinding flash of lightning and accompanying burst of thunder overhead. TX flinched despite his helmet systems and nervously wiped his helmet again. _In this weather, though... would they even hear us? I'm not sure._

They hiked along in relative silence for a few moments before the same trooper slipped and fell in the mud. The troopers laughed at their fellow's predicament, but the patrol leader was not joining in. He hauled the trooper roughly to his feet and said, "Next time you lose your footing private, you're on report. Now get a solid footing and let's-"

A shout from the back of the group, from TX-219's patrol buddy. TX sighed, thinking he had fallen as well, and thought, _We're gonna get it now_.

But when he looked back, he saw that his buddy was nowhere to be seen. Other troopers were looking around in confusion as well, looking all around for their missing comrade. TX blinked and said, "What? Where'd he go? He was right here!"

"Must have fallen behind a while ago, I guess," another trooper said with a shrug. "We must not have noticed he was-"

Another shout, this time from the patrol leader. They spun, weapons raised, to find him backing frantically away from TX's patrol buddy, who was hanging by his ankles from the trees ahead of them. His boots had been bound together by a length of durable whipcord and a still-smoking burn hole was seared through his chest plate. He swung back and forth lazily, strung up from branches high overhead.

"What the kriff!" one of the troopers shouted. "What happened to him?"

TX-219 didn't reply and instead followed the whipcord up into the trees. Up, up, up, to the branch where it was tied. He tightened his grip on his rifle as he did.

Sitting on the branch was a dark figure, staring down at them.

"Kriff," their patrol leader snarled. "Open fire! Open fire!"

The remaining troopers raised their weapons to fire, but by the time they did, the figure was gone. They emptied their rifles into open air for a few moments more before reason caught hold and they released the firing studs of their weapons.

As soon as the smoke had cleared, a thin metallic grappling appendage sliced out of the trees some distance away. It hit the patrol leader in the chest, piercing his white plastoid armor. The man cried out in equal parts pain and surprise, then was yanked away into the trees and out of sight. Seconds later his scream was cut abruptly short.

The troopers stood, staring in shock, unsure what to do. TX gulped loudly, making sure to reload his weapon before more soldiers were cut down. Deep in the forest, the same bird let out a second mournful call.

With a cacophony of crackling branches the patrol leader fell into view again, hanging from his ankles like TX's patrol buddy a little further down the path. He wasn't moving.

"_Kriff_, man!" one of the troopers shouted. "What do we do? What _is_ that thing?"

TX was about to speak when he heard a strange synthetic rasp and a glowing bar of bright blue sailed down out of the trees with a malevolent buzz. The bar of light, connected to some kind of long durasteel pole, speared the panicking trooper through the chest. The man screamed, clutching at the bubbling and melting plastoid of his chest plate.

In the next moment, the same dark figure dropped down out of the trees. It landed in the middle of their group, instantly lashing out with one leg to knock another trooper onto his back. The figure produced a pistol from its shadowy form and fired twice into the man's helmet. The trooper twitched and fell still.

Barely pausing, the figure pivoted, holstered its pistol, and yanked the long bar with the glowing blue blade from the stormtrooper's chest. The wounded man fell to the ground while the dark figure spun, whirling its glowing weapon over its rounded, dome-shaped head. It brought the weapon down, carving another trooper's chest plate in two before pivoting on one foot and stabbing another through the stomach. A quick boot to the face felled that trooper and the figure moved on to the two soldiers left standing.

The trooper standing next to TX-219 managed to snap off a lucky shot that hit the attacking figure in the chest. But the figure barely flinched and just kept advancing on them. It raised its weapon and slashed, carving the trooper's rifle in two before reversing the direction of the blade and taking both the soldier's hands off at the wrist. It then spun and hit the screaming trooper in the throat with one heavy boot, silencing him for good.

In moments, only TX remained. The entire time, he hadn't fired a shot; he hadn't even raised his rifle. He just stared at the dark figure, towering over the corpse of the handless trooper with humming blue energy pike in one hand.

His training finally took over and he slowly raised the rifle. The figure pointed the blue blade at him, a cautionary motion meant to warn him. TX knew he should probably give up, but the logical side of his brain seemed to have temporarily shut down.

"Not a good idea," the figure said in a soft, predatory voice. "Put the weapon down. You can still walk away."

But TX wasn't listening any more. He tightened his finger over the firing stud, his aim shaking wildly. He could feel his heart pounding as the dark figure took a step forward. "Last chance, _vod_. Weapon down or you'll force my hand."

TX was beyond that point. In a single moment he made up his mind; he squeezed his eyes shut and fired. His rifle kicked in his hand and there was a loud _pow_ as a blaster bolt was loosed from the weapon. A split-second later there was an even louder clang of the bolt slamming against hard metal.

TX hesitantly opened his eyes, shivering uncontrollably. The dark figure had fallen back a few steps, holding a hand to his head. It let out a snarled curse, then looked back at TX-219 and finally stepped into the light. TX saw scarred black metal, the result of his blaster shot, and a reflective, black-tinted T-visor.

_A Mandalorian_, TX thought to himself, shaking harder than ever now. _I just shot a Mandalorian_.

The black-armored Mandalorian took another threatening step forward and hissed, "Big mistake, _vod_."

Seconds later, TX's scream rang out through the Dark Zone.

* * *

><p>Cin Vhetin took a step back from the smoldering body of the offending stormtrooper and deactivated his lightsaber pike. He was breathing hard, head throbbing from the shot he'd taken to the helmet dome. He cursed again, then clipped his pike back to his jetpack and triggered his comm unit.<p>

"Go for secure," he said. "I need a sitrep."

"_Doesn't look like anyone noticed your theatrics_," came the response. "_We're good as long as you hurry to the outpost._"

"I'm on my way," Vhetin replied. He considered hiding the bodies of the trooper patrol, then quickly decided against it. He didn't have time, and everyone at the prison outpost would know he was there soon enough. "Keep me notified of anything out of the ordinary."

"Roger. _Oya_."

"_Oya_," Vhetin murmured in response. He took one last look at the stormtroopers splayed out across the forest floor, then set off at a sprint into the trees. A well-timed jump off a large stump launched him up into some low-hanging branches, where he clambered up and took off through the treetops, unseen by anything that moved below.


	2. ACT ONE: Chapter 1

ACT 1: Chapter 1

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far,_

_far away..._

**High orbit, Corulag system, Twenty-four hours earlier**

Sunlight streamed down onto the daylight side of the gray-green world of Corulag. It was interrupted only as the distinctive triangular shape of an Imperial Star Destroyer drifted between the sun and the planet, blocking the brilliant light from the Corulag system's primary star. The shadow was not powerful enough to stretch all the way down to the planet's surface, but it was more than large enough to blot out the light to the ships that flew beneath its massive form.

"_Nova-Ten, this is _Talisman_ hangar control. You are cleared for takeoff._"

The pilot touched the green comm button and replied, "_Talisman_, Nova-Ten, roger. Beginning pre-flight checkout... tell us if you find something amiss out there, would you?"

"_Roger that, Nova-Ten. Everything looks green from here, but I'll send a droid down to make sure._"

"Copy."

After the droid had finished its quick inspection and found nothing out of place, the pilot of Nova-10 tapped a number of buttons, pulled back a red lever, and grasped the control yoke. "_Talisman _Hangar Control, this is Nova-Ten. We're beginning takeoff and descent to BlueSend Naval Base."

"_Solid copy_," the HC officer said. There was a pause over the pilot's comm. "_And... good luck down there, Nova-Ten_."

The copilot clicked the comm once to signify they had heard the officer's message.

"Beginning flight conversion," the copilot reported. He twisted a lever to the right, then pulled down. "In three... two... one... flight conversion commencing."

With a low-pitched drone the port and starboard stabilizing wings of the shuttle folded down into the familiar inverted-Y flight position and the landing craft sped out of the hangar bay and towards the planet's surface. The pilot let out a long breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Takeoff had gone off without a hitch, and that meant they were already almost halfway finished. Now all they needed to do was make it to the planet surface.

_Just land, _the pilot thought, _dump the passenger, and we'll be back to flying supply runs for BlueSend. No more VIP passenger ferrying. Just simple cargo hauling in our old ship._

He looked over at his copilot, who seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. The other man licked his lips nervously and pressed his foot down on the engine coolant pedal. The cockpit around them heated to a dull orange as the craft hit atmosphere, blocking sight through the front viewport as the ship tunneled its way to the planet's surface. The shuttle began to rock and shake wildly for a few moments before the artificial gravity compensators calmed most of the shaking in the interior of the ship.

After a few tense minutes the craft broke free of the planet's atmosphere, blasting clouds aside as it passed, and the pilot wiped his forehead. Though it did nothing to calm his racing heart it did keep the sweat from his eyes. He stole a glance over his shoulder, at the closed door to the small passenger bay. He almost imagined he could still hear the passenger's breathing from here; the same dead-sounding metallic wheeze that had shattered the silence of interstellar space as _he_ had strode aboard for the journey down to Corulag.

_Someone like that isn't human. He can't be._

The shuttle flew in low beneath rain-swollen clouds that shrouded the forest near BlueSend prison. The roar from the engines made animals and Imperials alike look up, squinting into the rain that fell from the dark sky. Lightning forked down into the forest with loud explosions, muted by the durasteel of the ship's hull. The shuttle swerved to miss a tall conifer tree and the pilot grunted. Sweat beaded his forehead as he concentrated. He pushed his gray cap further back on his head.

"Do you think I should go back and check on our passenger?" he asked his copilot.

The other man looked over at him with a look of surprise on his face. "If you want to. I'm not going back there."

The copilot thought for a moment, then shrugged anxiously and turned back to the instruments. The pilot shuddered and fought down the nausea that rose in his throat. "You're right," he said. "I think he'll be fine. And the sooner we finish this run the better."

Almost right on cue the comm crackled and the familiar voice of BlueSend Naval Base's ground control officer filled the cockpit. "_Nova-Ten, this is BlueSend GC. We have you on our scopes. Transmit landing code for clearance to land._"

The copilot radioed back, "Roger BlueSend GC. Transmitting now."

He hit a red button to engage the autopilot while he typed in the 10-number, 7-letter code he had been forced to memorize at the start of their flight. After he had finished, he hit the transmission button and sent the message.

There was a pause of about fifteen seconds during which the BlueSend Ground Control officer checked the code clearance against the registered codes in the Imperial databanks. They were probably the longest fifteen seconds of the pilot's life and he wished that the GC officer had just granted him clearance without checking. But then again, that would be against protocol, and protocolwas synonymous with lawthese days.

After a few nervous moments, the comm crackled again and BlueSend GC's voice came back. "_Nova-Ten, you have clearance to land. You will be escorted to BlueSend Naval Base by a squadron of TIE Interceptors. Follow their present course and proceed to landing pad Delta-Twenty. Any deviation from that course and you will be shot down. _"

_Now_ _that wouldn't be such a good idea, _the pilot thought, _considering the passenger we have aboard_.

He groaned quietly as two lines of TIE Interceptors, four to a line, fell into escort position next to them with their recognizable screeching roar.

_I never have to follow Interceptors to base on a normal day. _The pilot sighed and shook his head. All this extra drama was too much for him. He vastly preferred simple everyday cargo runs to this VIP passenger ferrying. _ I just want to get out of here. And the sooner that freak is off this ship the happier I'll be._

"_Nova-Ten, confirm flight directives_."

"Nova-Ten here, confirming flight directives. Proceeding to follow Interceptor escort."

The ship shook a bit as it was taken off of the automatic piloting program. He cursed quietly and stole a glance over his shoulder. He hoped his passenger hadn't felt that. The last thing he needed today was a demotion or worse because of such a small matter.

He told himself to calm down and took another deep breath. _Get a grip. Pilots don't get punished because of the ship shaking. Even _he_ can't help that._

The Interceptors began heading into a zigzagging flight pattern to BlueSend. The erratic flight plan was designed to throw off potential stalkers according to new regulations that had been enacted only within the last month.

Lightning flashed overhead, the electrical discharge making the ship's instruments fuzz over slightly. They reverted to their normal operational status as thunder rumbled through the sky moments later.

He looked over and saw his copilot staring distractedly at the holopic he'd set up of a smiling blonde woman holding an infant.

He sighed irritably and snapped, "Would you please focus on what we're doing? In case you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of something important."

The copilot grinned and tapped the holographic picture. It flickered out with a quiet _pop_. "I can't help it, Kol. Neila just sent me a message that Yilli spoke her first word the other day. _Dada,_ can you believe it!"

"I'm overjoyed," the pilot said through gritted teeth. "When we're _done_ you can tell me all about it. I'll buy you a beer."

After ten minutes of staggered, erratic flying, Nova-10's pilot finally caught a glimpse of the sprawling military complex that was BlueSend Naval Base and Military Prison. It was a collection of drab gray buildings clustered around the gentle slope of a hill. The landing pad at the top of the hill beckoned, its glowing landing lights blinking invitingly through the driving rain.

The shuttle finally came down over the horizon, breaking through the fog line with a roar and heading towards the flat gray space of cleared land that was the Delta-20 landing pad. He let out a sigh of relief as the Interceptors peeled off and he eased the shuttle down toward the pad.

"BlueSend GC, this is Nova-Ten," the pilot transmitted, "beginning touchdown sequence."

"Roger Nova-Ten."

He hit two buttons and the flight wings folded back up into the landing position. Once his copilot assured him they were fully locked in place he pushed gently down on the flight yoke. There was a slight jolt as the landing struts hit the durasteel pad beneath.

There was silence in the cockpit, save for the loud slap of heavy rain against the transparisteel of the front viewport. The pilot sat back in his seat as his copilot lowered the exit ramp. He pulled off his cap, wiped his sweaty forehead, and checked the chronometer.

Only half an hour had passed. Only _half_ _an hour._

He let out another sigh and laughed. "That's it then. We're done."

**BlueSend Naval Base and Military Prison, Javilion Forest, Corulag**

Imperial General Ponsius Luun stood, struggling to keep his cap on his head as the wind tugged it about, and watched nervously as the dark shuttle swung in low over the prison. He didn't move as it roared over his head. He didn't even blink until the shuttle had landed on the pad and extended its exit ramp.

Coolant steam wafted up from pad, cloaking the entrance. Luun found it disconcerting and, frankly, terrifying. At least when he considered who was onboard. But he didn't let any of his fear show and instead straightened and waited patiently as the exit ramp lowered in front of him.

The rain slapped loudly against the bleached white armor of the six lines of stormtroopers arrayed behind him, every single one standing at attention despite the dreadful weather. Luun himself was not graced with plastoid armor plating and simply had to endure the rain while the base's very special guest arrived.

With a hiss of escaping coolant and a few final bursts of steam, the ramp from the triangular landing craft hit the pad's surface with a dull _thud._ A single wheezing, mechanical breath split the air, audible even over the sound of the rain. The general cringed inside. He heard the sound of heavy footfalls on the metal ramp but could see no one through the fog.

Still, there was not a single person present who did not know who was emerging to greet them.

Lightning flashed across the sky, soon followed by a clap of thunder that seemed to greet the dark figure that strode down the ramp. As it moved through the fog, black armor glinted in the glare of the red landing lights of the craft. Luun felt his heart skip a

The general gulped and saluted as Darth Vader strode out from the haze of steam, walking with an assured gait that only the Emperor's right-hand thug could pull off. Luun had never met Vader before but knew the reputation the Dark Lord had earned for himself. Word around the base was that he could snap a man's neck with merely his thoughts. The same rumors claimed that he could hunt down and expose one's deepest, most secret thoughts like a massif hunting for a piece of meat. _Relentless _was only one of the words that the soldiers had used to describe Lord Vader.

Luun had dismissed this as simple rumor in the past. But now that Lord Vader was actually here he was beginning to wish he'd paid better attention.

The Dark Lord nodded silently in greeting and beckoned Luun to follow him. The rain made quiet pattering sounds as it hit his menacing black faceplate and his cape billowed out behind him as the wind tugged at it. Luun started and fell into step next to the Sith Lord.

"Ah, I'd roll out the red carpet for you, Lord Vader," he said nervously, shouting to be heard over the sound of the rain and thunder, "but as you can see-"

Vader waved a gloved hand in the air dismissively and finally spoke in his mechanized baritone boom "You may skip your pitiable attempts at humor, General. You know as well as I that my presence here is not a publicity stunt."

"O-of course, Lord Vader, but-"

Vader interrupted him again, coming to a halt and looking around at his surroundings with fists planted on his hips. "You have within this prison more than two hundred suspected insurgents. Yet I am here to see only one. Where is she?"

"Prison wing A-3," Luun replied as lightning flashed overhead. He waited for the ensuing thunder to fade before continuing. "Her execution is in three days."

Vader nodded and set off in that direction at a brisk pace. Luun stumbled after him, putting a hand against his cap to keep it from blowing away in the strong wind. "I-I see no need to interrogate her, my lord. She is obviously guilty of treason. The evidence gathered against her will attest to that. Why try and get a confession out of her now?"

"Her treachery is not what concerns me. She is not the cause of this growing militia that opposes us. What I wish to know is exactly who planted the first seeds of rebellious thought within her mind."

"You... suspect Jedi?"

Vader whipped around and pointed a finger at Luun's chest. "The Jedi are all but extinct, General Luun. Those who did manage to survive the Great Purge are now little more than hermits. Exiles. And I will not allow rumors that they are the cause of this revolt to spread among the ranks. Do I make myself clear?"

"A-absolutely my lord."

Vader nodded, temporarily satisfied, and stared at the prison compound once more. He took a slow, wheezing breath. "And... once I have finished with the prisoner, bring me the pilot and copilot of my shuttle."

"Why?" Luun asked before he could stop himself. He cringed inwardly as Vader turned it back to him.

"My reasons are not your concern, General. See to it that they are awaiting my return. That is all."

With that the Dark Lord strode towards the compound. Lightning flashed again, much closer this time, and the thunder nearly deafened Luun. The wind began to pick up and he had to put a hand on his head to keep his cap from blowing away.

"My lord!" he called after Vader. "How long will you be speaking with the prisoner?"

Vader turned back to him at the door and said, "For as long as it takes."

He gestured with a single finger and the door slid open. With a swirl of his cape, he turned and disappeared down the brightly lit hall.


	3. ACT ONE: Chapter 2

ACT 1: Chapter 2

Thunder split the silence within her prison cell. Lightning lit the dark sky, sending sporadic explosions of light across the dark clouds. Out of the tiny window – barred and ray-shielded to eliminate any possibility of escape – she saw armored stormtroopers marching back and forth in the prison courtyard, standing guard even in the worst weather. They flinched only slightly when a stray lightning bolt hit only a few hundred meters from them. Their helmet visors probably darkened to protect their sight from the bright explosion of light, and their audio links dampened the sound of the subsequent thunder.

She had never worn the armor, but she knew from a few friends that the helmets contained a myriad of technology, all intended to give the wearer optimum functionality in any environment. Her friends had also told her that it was almost impossible to see anything through the helmet's eye-shaped visors.

The door at the far end of the hall opened with a loud, rusty squeak. She didn't bother to look up; she didn't even move. She just sat with her back pressed up against the wall, alternating between staring out the window and gazing absently at her dirty, filth-streaked hands.

Jay Kolta flinched visibly as the lightning strike lit up her bare cell for what seemed like the thousandth time. She tried to draw further into the corner of the room but was already as far back as she could get. The thunder split the air and she clapped her hands over her ears. Fierfek, she hated that sound. And this far north, there seemed to be rain and thunder all the time.

During the short times she had been taken outside, she had been able to glimpse the valley in which the prison was hidden. The sky was foggy and gray, thick with rain, and the trees dripped with raindrops. Normally it would have been a beautiful sight, but she had been miserable for so long that it seemed she would never be able to remember what beauty was.

A stormtrooper walked past her cell, his white metallic armor looking as dull and dirty as she felt. It didn't surprise her. From what she'd been able to gather, this was a very secretive prison where all kinds of horrible things happened. Experimental interrogation was what the troopers called it. Even through the bureaucratic babble that hid most of the prison's real duties, she could tell what that meant. Torture was torture no matter what you called it.

Her muscles ached from too much inactivity and her stomach growled loudly. The food in the prison was awful but she had given up trying to go without it after three days of not eating, when she had begun feeling dizzy from hunger. Now she just choked it down and hoped it stayed down.

She absently played with a strand of her dirty hair as she stared out the window. Lightning flashed again, this time hitting a few hundred meters away. The following clap of thunder was so loud she clapped her hands to her ears again.

The red floodlights that illuminated her room flickered. For a single heart-stopping moment she thought she saw the rippling, light-bending shields that stretched across her cell door flicker as well. But she knew it was just her imagination and that the shields were just as impenetrable as ever. It would probably take nothing less than a turbolaser round to short out those shields.

After the thunderclap faded she leaned against the wall, letting her head thump against the cold duracrete. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to the driving rain outside.

_ Why am I here?_ she thought for what felt like the thousandth time. She felt despair creep into her heart once more at the thought. She didn't have an answer and it seemed that every time she asked the question it gave birth to another question. After months in prison, her list of questions had grown quite long.

Why was she – a good-mannered, attractive, skilled Imperial pilot – in a _cell _after her near-untarnished military record? Who had done this to her? Why was she still alive? And what kind of sick galaxy was this where she lived while all her friends had died horrible, terrified deaths?

The Empire didn't tolerate failure. Jay knew that already and _had_ known it since she had joined the Navy. But now she knew that same intolerance bordered on outright paranoia. She had been imprisoned here for a crime she hadn't committed! For a crime she would never even _dream_ of committing!

She snorted scornfully, though quietly, careful not to alert the stormtrooper guard standing outside the entrance to her cell.

_ Dereliction of duty. Treason. _Jay, with her sterling military reputation and her knack for stopping trouble? For "defusing explosive situations" as a general had once commented? She was about as Imperial as someone could _get_! In fact-

The lightning flashed even closer, hitting somewhere inside the compound. The enormous clap of thunder that instantly followed it was loud enough that even the stormtrooper outside her cell covered his helmet's audio receivers.

After her ears had stopped ringing, she heard shouting outside her window. She glanced outside, wary for more thunder, and squinted to see through the rain and find out what was going on. Stormtroopers were running back and forth and shouting orders to get everyone inside. Two were carrying a smoldering gray mass that almost looked like a limp man in twisted, warped armor.

She bit back a grin, feeling a small bit of satisfaction at seeing her captors in such disarray. _Well what did you think would happen if you went outside in a thunderstorm covered in metal armor? _Storm_troopers. Yeah right. _

Once all the troopers had fled inside, she turned away from the window and leaned back against the wall again. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sounds around her, letting her vivid imagination take her back to happier times. It was the way she passed the days now, by thinking back to times when she'd been accepted, wanted. Times when she'd been part of a group that was so close they were almost a family. A slight smile flashed across her lips as her fellow pilot's faces and call signs flitted through her mind.

Kalin, also known as Dewback. He'd been the joker of their little group, never ceasing to bring a smile to her face. She could still see his young, grinning face, his mop of dirty black hair, and his pencil-thin glowtorch that he had always spun between his fingers, a habit he'd never tried to grow out of.

Turina, called Red Dwarf. She'd always hated her nickname and with good reason. With a head of long red hair, she had barely come up to Jay's shoulder and because of it only minutes had passed before the others had come up with her nickname. Despite her usually surly attitude, she had been one of their best pilots. In the cockpit she was fast, silent, and effective, even in the middle of the most pitched battle.

Fillton, nicknamed Yessir because of his attitude as a constant suck-up to superior officers in hope of a promotion. They had always teased him about this but he'd replied that he would be the one laughing at them when he was a general and they were all still privates assigned with refresher duty.

Oppan, simply nicknamed O, partially because of the first letter of his name, partially because of his zero social skills outside the group. He'd always been quiet, always content to listen rather than speak. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed being a part of the group, and had grown especially close to Red Dwarf in those last months.

And finally Sade, call sign Phantom One. Just the thought of her CO brought a fresh spike of pain to her heart. Of all of Phantom Squadron, her small group of TIE fighter pilots, Sade was the one she missed the most.

He'd been only a year or so older than her, tall and strong with black tattoos on his arms that stretched from his wrists to the shoulder. He'd had a strong, handsome face with dark green eyes and long light-brown hair that was certainly against military regulations. He never cut it, though, no matter how many court-martials for insubordination he'd been threatened with. And none of the officers had come through with there threats because... well, no on messed with Sade. Even with his daredevil attitude he looked more like a hardened Special Forces trooper than a fighter pilot, and he'd used that to his advantage.

As for Jay? She'd been Sade's second-in-command, one of the most respected pilots in her outfit because of her luck and her knack for turning the tables on their enemies and transforming near-failed missions into well-known victories. With Sade to lead her, she had helped Phantom Squadron to be one of the most respected and effective fighter teams in the entire Navy. Yessir, with his flair for poetry and the dramatic, had once said that because of her skill, the Imperial Phantom Squadron had been "reborn from the ashes of our own agonizing, debilitating weakness."

Sade had jumped on the comment and assigned her the call sign of _Phoenix_, after the extinct Corellian avian and galaxy-wide symbol of royalty, of power reborn through the heat of battle.

She had been content, had been _happy_, for one of the first times since she could remember. And then, three months ago, they'd received orders for a new mission. Phantom Squad, along with several other squads of fighter pilots, were to ship out to the remnants of the Malachor system and destroy a terrorist fleet massing there. The mission brief had stated that there weren't that many ships to worry about: three Nebulon-B frigates, a couple Blockade Runners, and four squadrons of outdated Z-95 Headhunter fighters.

When they'd arrived, reinforced by the Acclamator Star Destroyer _Triumphant_, they had gotten to work with their usual precision and skill. They had quickly disabled the three frigates and two Blockade Runners while some of the other squadrons had taken care of the Headhunters. All seemed to be going well.

Then, appearing from the asteroid field that was all that was left of the planet had come sixteen more squadrons of Z-95s, three groups of old V-Wing bombers, and four more Nebulon-B frigates, as well as a stolen Acclamator of their own. The Imperial Star Destroyer had quickly succumbed to these new forces. Jay could still see the blinding explosion as the cruiser's engines exploded into a mini-supernova, still feel the shock and dread as she realized they were now without backup.

With the Acclamator out of the way, the new ships had quickly turned on the TIE fighters. Transponder signals had flitted out left and right on Jay's readout, until only the most skilled - Phantom Squadron - were left.

Red Dwarf had gone first, caught in the crossfire between Yessir's Interceptor and one of the massive frigates. Her Interceptor had careened wildly out of control before detonating into a blue-white ball of light and debris with one last scream.

The next casualty had been Oppan, most likely because the pilot had been distraught by the loss of his best friend. He'd taken a missile right through the front viewport and had disappeared silently into the void of space.

The rest of Phantom Squadron had quickly followed their fellow pilots, shot down by rockets, laser blasts, or by collisions with enemy ships until the only TIE pilots left were Sade and Jay. Even as Jay watched, Sade's jet-black Interceptor had taken fire along one wing. He'd struggled to bring the fighter under control.

He'd lasted long enough to give Jay one last order: retreat and request reinforcements to finish the mission they'd been unable to complete.

Then an angular Z-95 had swooped in and Sade's Interceptor had disappeared in a plume of flame, exhaust, and twisted durasteel. Moments later three more predatory Headhunters had roared to the scene, combing the wreckage of the battle for any potential survivors.

Jay had frantically screamed into her helmet's comlink, searching for anyone still alive, but it only succeeded in drawing the attention of the rest of the enemy ships. She had quickly turned and fled, disappearing into the asteroid field that had hidden the rebel reinforcements.

She'd waited there for sixteen stunned hours, her mind struggling to accept the fact that her only friends in the entire galaxy were dead. After sixteen hours, the rebels had left the area and Jay had limped away from the battle, flying for almost three days straight to the nearest Imperial Space Station. She intended to honor Sade's last order and head the attack on the fleet as soon as she could gather enough ships to launch a successful assault.

But she hadn't had time to request reinforcements; barely moments after she'd clambered out of the cockpit she'd been surrounded by stormtroopers with rifles and told that she was under arrest for treason. Within two hours she'd been clapped in stun cuffs and carted off here, to this prison, where she'd been told that she had been identified as a spy who had sold the Malachor battle plans to the rebels and was thus responsible for the loss of so many ships.

It was _ridiculous_! Phantom Squadron had been her entire _life_, and Sade... she would never even _dream_ of betraying him! It was an insult to her, an insult to her murdered friends, an insult to the Empire itself!

She jerked her eyes open and blinked back a sudden wave of tears. To think that they were all dead now, leaving her alone...

She shook her head and sniffed quietly, wiping her eyes. No. She couldn't think about that now. She had to focus on what she could actually control.

But why was the Empire holding her here now? She had lost _everyone_! And they thought that she was a traitor because of it?

She stopped mid-thought as the trooper outside her cell put a hand to the side of his helmet and lowered his head, listening to his internal comlink. It was mildly disturbing to see the troopers carry on silent conversations over the private audio links in the helmets, but she knew her guards would tell her what was going on. They always gloated sooner or later.

She watched cautiously as the trooper turned and typed in a code that shut down the ray shields stretching between the bars of her cell door.

"Prisoner Twenty-Seven," he said to her, "orders just came through. You're going for a little trip. You're going to stand against the wall, hands behind your head, while I lower the shield. Any bad moves and I fry you. Got it?"

"Crystal clear, Gorn," she said, wiping her eyes one last time. Over the past three months, she had learned the names of all her guards. This particular trooper was especially fond of beating prisoners and she had the bruises to prove it. She did as she was told and stood against the wall with her hands held against the back of her head and her feet spread wide. The durasteel door of her cell made a loud creaking noise as it swung slowly open.

She felt a slight flutter of fear as Gorn slapped stun cuffs around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back. Her execution was still three days away, wasn't it? Maybe the Imperials had lied to her, trying to lull her into thinking she still had time. Maybe she was going to rejoin Phantom Squad sooner than she thought.

But Gorn shattered that theory when he jabbed a deactivated stun prod into the small of her back and shoved her out of the cell. He held onto her shoulder with a painfully tight grip and growled, "Word around the base is you've got a very special visitor, Twenty-Seven."

"Who?"

Gorn let out an unpleasant chuckle. "You'll know when you see him."

"He must be even more hideous than you, Gorn," she replied. "Seeing as how your ugly faceplate is the only thing that sticks in my mind when I think _Imperial_."

Gorn had two messy red streaks down the center of his helmet that reminded Jay strongly of blood. Then again, knowing Gorn, he probably liked it that way.

He swatted her across the back of the head with the butt of the stun prod. She winced, but didn't let it outwardly affect her. With Gorn, it was wise not to show weakness.

"Shut your karking mouth," the trooper snapped. "There's no way you're getting out of this one. Not with your execution in three days."

"It would be a waste of time to try and convince you again that I'm innocent, wouldn't it?"

"Believe it, sweetheart," Gorn growled. "I've heard the same excuse over and over again for the past five years. _It wasn't me_, they say. _I wasn't even there that night._ It gets more and more pathetic as the days go on."

He yanked on her stun cuffs to make sure they were tight then pushed her in front of him. "I've heard it all and more. It's gotten so bad that these scumbags start bawling their stories out the moment I walk into their cell."

Jay snorted. "I'm sure they'd say just about anything to get your stinking carcass out of their breathing area."

Gorn pulled his fist back for a punch, a snarl coming over his comm set. Before he could follow through, however, someone else caught his wrist.

"Straighten up, Five-Two," came the accented, gravelly voice of a clone trooper, "or I'll report you to Luun for roughing up the prisoners."

Gorn growled, his white helmet nodding toward Jay. "This scum doesn't deserve any better."

The clone, dressed in the white and brown of the local legion and wearing the red shoulder pad of a captain, grabbed Jay roughly by the shoulder and said, "Be that as it may, I think I'll take the prisoner from here. We don't want the General punishing you for bringing our... _guest _bad merchandise."

"Piss off, Tammer," Gorn snapped, waving his stun prod for emphasis. "Everyone knows you've got a soft spot for the Death Row inmates. You clones are too spineless for your own good."

"Is that so? Well in case you hadn't noticed, I'm also a _captain_," Tammer barked, drawing his pistol and indicating his red shoulder pad. "And I have no worries about shooting a lowly private like you for insubordination. So you can take that stun prod of yours and shove it up your ass for all I care."

That sure shut Gorn up. He stood in silence for a few moments, then stiffly saluted and stalked down the hall in the opposite direction, waving his stun prod at a few prisoners and shouting, "What the hell're _you_ looking at? You want me to come in there?"

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jay sighed in relief and whispered, "Nice timing as always, Tam."

The clone captain let out a quiet sigh and deftly spun his pistol around his trigger finger before holstering it. "Any day I get to crack down on Gorn is a good day in my book. The man's a menace."

They set off slowly down the hall, looking like any other captain escorting a prisoner to another part of the base. If they were lucky no one would hear their quiet conversation and would pass by unknowingly.

"Sorry I have to let him beat up on you occasionally," Tammer murmured.

Jay shrugged, wincing as her sore muscles sent another dull ache down her spine. "If you didn't it would be pretty obvious that you were helping me. I understand. But who's this visitor of mine that you guys keep talking about?"

Tammer shrugged. "No clue. Rumors are goin' around the base, but no one's saying anything with any certainty. Some Imperial tough guy, probably. Probably with Intelligence."

Jay sighed again. "Why are they making such a big deal out of me? I didn't do anything! Even if I did, it was a routine counterinsurgency operation, and there's nothing special there!"

"I still can't give you any answers, Jay," he said. "Not yet. All I can say is that I'm still trying – discreetly, mind you – to get your execution delayed again. ARC troopers may not have any rights, but I have friends in low places who have friends in high places."

She smiled slightly. "Quite an interesting chain of command, where the stormtroopers with no rights are in control of the life and death of the Imperials under their direction."

"It's not the best system," Tammer said, "but it works better than if you leave it to the bigwig generals in their comfy offices to decide what's best for us grunts. Best part is, those same generals labor under the impression that they're the ones in charge. Stupid mongrels."

"Well, in any case," Jay said, "thanks for all your help, even if we don't get the execution delay."

"Even if we don't," Tammer said darkly, "I have a backup plan."

"What?"

"Just some old friends who happen to be in the neighborhood," he said. He then fell silent.

They turned another corner, and Jay suddenly realized where they were. They were standing at the head of a long corridor framed by tall, whitewashed durasteel doors on either side. Each door was marked from AIR-01 to AIR-09.

Jay shuddered in spite of herself. AIR stood for _Active Interrogation Room_. And in the Empire, interrogationwas synonymous with torture. This was the part of the prison that the prisoners referred to as the Nightmare Block.

She could hear no sound from the other sides of the doors. That meant they were either empty, soundproofed, or the occupants of the rooms were in no condition to speak.

"Tam?" she asked hesitantly.

The old clone tightened his grip on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jay, but I have my orders."

The tall door to AIR-03 swung open. Jay tried to back away, feeling a small worm of fear turn in her gut, but Tammer's firm grip kept her moving forward. As they crossed the threshold, he whispered, "Forgive me."

At first, Jay couldn't see anything. The room behind the door was filled with a white-hot, blinding light. She blinked a few times, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change of light. She stopped cold, however, when she heard the sound that was coming from the room: harsh, wheezing, mechanical breath that sounded like the breathing of Death itself. That single sound was known across the galaxy, as was the infamous Imperial to whom it belonged.

Tammer, who was not blinded as Jay was, could see her visitor perfectly.

"The prisoner, as you requested... my lord," he said, sounding just as shocked as Jay was.

"Very good, Captain," Darth Vader replied in his deep, baritone voice. He gestured with a large gloved hand. "You may leave."

"If I may," Tammer said, sounding nervous, "I would like to stay to ensure the prisoner's security. After all, a breakout would look terrible on the quarterly reports, and the General-"

"Do you believe me incapable of preventing a single prisoner's escape, Captain?" Vader's voice was menacing.

"Not at all, sir, but we must follow protocol."

Vader waved a hand, dismissing the statement. "Protocol does not concern me, captain. You may leave. _Now_."

Tammer, knowing an order when he heard one, snapped to attention, saluted, then turned and left the room. The door swung shut with a resounding _boom_ behind him.

Vader stared at the closed door for a moment, taking in a long, slow breath, then turned to Jay. He inclined his helmeted head. "Captain Kolta."

She said nothing.

"You won't need those," he said. He gestured with a shadowy hand and there was a deep rumble in the air. Jay felt her electroshock binders click off and fall to the floor.

She still didn't respond. Her mind was still struggling to catch up to where she was. She was standing, alone in the same room as the most feared being in the galaxy save for the Emperor himself. She could only guess why she was still alive. From what she had heard, Vader had a penchant for choking people to death without even touching them. There were other rumors, but the Imperial Navy tended to exaggerate things and that was the only story that had been confirmed.

Jay glanced down at her now-free hands. She rubbed her wrists as she looked up into Vader's infamous death mask of a helmet. "A-aren't you afraid I'll attack you? Or try to escape?"

"Captain, if I had any worries about my personal safety or the security of this room, you would have been dead before you passed through the door."

Jay's eyebrows twitched up slightly in surprise. "Oh. Well, when you put it like that..."

Vader gestured to the chair on her side of the table. It slid out and pointed toward her as if manipulated by invisible hands.

"Sit."

Jay found herself – through fear or some subliminal mind trick – unable to resist. She sat in the chair, trembling slightly. She folded her hands in her lap, unconsciously sitting at attention like she would for a superior officer.

Vader leaned forward, placing his palms on the tabletop. The persistent repetition of his breathing made Jay flinch slightly. She hoped that Vader couldn't sense just how frightened she was. He might use that to his advantage.

"I assume you understand that I am not here simply to visit Death Row inmates," he said, obviously studying her closely through his helmet's eye-shaped visors.

"You want to know about the Malachor mission."

"Yes. Countless officers have informed me that you are guilty of treason. That you are a spy within the Navy, and that you are leaking information to insurgent Imperial subjects."

Jay scowled. "That's what they keep telling me, too."

"Hm." Vader stood to his full height again. "I see that, like myself, you are not convinced that you are guilty."

"I keep telling people th-" Jay stopped mid-sentence. "What? You don't think I did it?"

The Dark Lord shook his head. "No. I do not believe you directly responsible for the failure of the Malachor counterinsurgency."

Jay's head spun with relief. After all this drama, she was really going to be fine! With a recommendation and pardon from Lord Vader himself... her execution would be cancelled, she would be out of prison, and probably be promoted by the end of the week! She didn't care that it all would be done out of fear for Vader. It was all going to be all right!

"What I wish to know," Vader continued, "is who paid you to deliberately sabotage the mission."

Her small bubble of relief exploded.

"_What_?"

Jay suddenly felt her face slammed hard against the durasteel tabletop. She cried out in surprise and pain and clapped her hands over her nose.

"Do not lie to me, Captain!" Vader's voice had risen to a frightening volume. He had not moved the entire time.

Jay wiped blood from her nose and tried to look unfazed. To some point, she was; she was a fighter pilot, and she had received far worse wounds in the cockpit of her TIE Interceptor. Most of her anger and humiliation came from surprise. She didn't expect her face to be smashed against the table by someone she didn't know was there.

But there _was_ no one there, she knew. It was just her and Vader in the room.

There was silence in the room, broken only by Vader' s mechanized breathing. When she said nothing, he leaned forward again, his death's-head facemask only inches from Jay's face.

"I can see every secret you have in your mind, Captain Kolta. You cannot hide your accomplice from me for long. And believe me, your fate will be much more bearable if you only tell the accomplice's _name_."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Jay cried, feeling blood drip into her cupped hands. "I've never sabotaged any mission, let alone been paid for it!"

She cursed and said, "You don't even have any proof!"

"Proof?" Vader turned away, towards the blank wall. He clasped his hands behind his back. "The day after your failure at Malachor, one hundred thousand credits were transferred to your private credit account on Corellia. Coincidence?"

"I-I never got any money!"

"No? You were probably not aware of it because you were imprisoned the moment you returned to Imperial space, some two days later."

He looked back around at her. "We _will_ find your accomplice. But we _–_ _I – _am offering you a full pardon if you simply give us his name and location now."

Jay squeezed her eyes shut, feeling almost dizzy with disbelief. "I don't... know... what you're _talking about_."

"Then you and I are going to be here for a very long time, Captain," Vader growled.

Jay cried out as invisible fingers gripped the back of her head and slammed her face into the durasteel tabletop again. She was held there, her face ground hard against the tabletop for a long time before being released again. She rocked back in her chair, gasping for breath as tears streamed down her face.

Vader stared down at her for a long time before speaking again. "Now, Captain. Tell me about Malachor."


	4. ACT ONE: Chapter 3

ACT 1: Chapter 3

Some hours later, Vader left the room with a loud mechanical wheeze. General Luun jumped forward and fell into step with the Dark Lord.

"Well?" he asked. "Did she give up a name?"

"Her resistance to my interrogation is impressive," Vader said. "But she will not hold out for much longer. I want her to be questioned daily by two separate interrogation droids, one every three hours. Her execution will be delayed until further notice."

"B-but my lord," Luun said, "her death has already been delayed several times, and another-"

"It _will_ be delayed until I give the order for her to die," Vader interrupted forcefully. "Am I understood?"

"Y-yes, my lord," Luun backed down, sighing quietly.

"Good. I am returning to Coruscant tonight on urgent business for the Emperor. I want weekly reports of this prisoner's status. If she divulges the name of her accomplice, I wish to know immediately."

"Of course, Lord Vader."

"Are my pilot and copilot waiting?" Vader boomed as he gestured for the exit door to open.

Lightning flashed overhead as they stepped outside, letting loose a roar of thunder, but Vader seemed to pay it no attention. The rain lashed against his armor and his cape billowed out around him.

"They are waiting on the landing pad as we speak, my lord."

"Good," Vader murmured, drawing in a long mechanical breath. He set off across the facility at a brisk pace that Luun found difficult to match. A few moments later, they approached the two pilots on the landing pad. The pilots were protected from the rain by the large mass of the ship and shuffled nervously from foot to foot as Vader approached.

The Dark Lord stopped in front of them and placed his hands on his hips. "Are you two the pilot and copilot of my shuttle?"

The two saluted stiffly. "Yes, my lord," the pilot said. "We took you down this morning."

The Sith looked between the two for a moment, then said, "Then can you explain why you chose to reveal such... _rebellious _thoughts when you clearly knew I was onboard?"

Both men frowned in confusion, the pilot going suddenly pale. "S-sir, I don't know-"

He broke off and coughed, rubbing his throat with a gloved hand. He coughed again as Vader took a step closer. The Dark Lord leaned closer as the man coughed and began to gasp for air.

"I could sense every thought that went through your mind as you piloted this ship," Vader said, his voice almost a whisper. "Your mind cannot hide your contempt for my presence here or your growing dissatisfaction with the Empire's ways. Do you wish to resign? To leave? Perhaps to rebel?"

The man sputtered and shook his head, going slightly purple. Luun began to hear a deep rumble over the sound of the rain. Not thunder... something else. Vader leaned back and shook his helmeted head in disgust. The man fell to the ground with a gurgle, his feet twitching.

The Sith Lord prodded the body with the tip of his armored boot and murmured, "Within the Empire, resignation is a _gift_, not a privilege."

Vader turned to the copilot and raised a hand. The man instantly began to wheeze and hold his throat and again, Luun heard that same low rumble.

"P-please!" the man cried out. "I... I have a wife! And a kid!"

Vader sighed. "Then you are such a disappointment to them, private. To resist the ways of the government that supports your family... I am truly surprised."

He made a fist, and the man's neck snapped with a series of wet crunches.

Luun's eyes were wide with shock as he glanced at Vader, to the two dead men in front of him, then back to Vader.

"Is there..." he cleared his throat and tried again. "Is there anything else you wish of me, my lord?"

"No," Vader said, striding past the two stormtroopers who had appeared to drag the bodies away. "But I want the name of Kolta's accomplice."

Luun nodded emphatically. "Of course."

Vader nodded and strode up the ramp, into the ship. 摘nsure my orders are obeyed, general. Do not make me return to your prison.

** Interstellar space, Corulag system**

The clouds obscured the sky above Corulag's forests. If the sky had been clear, the residents would have seen that it was a new moon. That was good; the darkness provided a good cover for incoming ships. The ship that floated between the stars was even darker, just a shadow upon a shadow. The only light that came from it was the bright blue of its ion drives.

The man with no real name looked at all this from the cockpit of the ship. He flicked a few switches and typed a command into a keypad. "Rame," he said, opening a comm channel, "get up to the cockpit. We've arrived."

"_On my way_," came the response.

He could see the storm that covered the forest above the military facility even now: a swirling mass of clouds, lit up from within by brief flashes of blue-white lightning. He turned his head towards one of the view screens on _Void_'s HUD.

The bounty's position was right down there in the middle of the storm. And if the holomap was correct, in a prison facility, no less.

He swung the pilot's chair to face another holographic display, this one of the schematics of the prison.

_ Would it be too much to ask, _he thought to himself, _for an easy way in?_

As far as he could tell, there wasn't. From the preliminary scans of the planet's surface, it looked as if the detention area was situated inside an old fortress, currently utilized for a military company called BlueSend. The only way in or out was a single entry gate and a single stable landing pad. But the gate was guarded by eighteen stormtroopers divided into two groups of nine, and the air above the base was covered in every conceivable direction by huge anti-aircraft turrets.

"So neither will work for an entrance or escape," he sighed. He rubbed his tired eyes and focused once more on the map. This was not going to be easy.

What he needed was a distraction. A rather large distraction if he could find one. Large enough that it would divert all attention to it and away from him.

With a few quick flips of small switches, he powered up _Void_'s sublight drives and the ship sped quietly towards the planet's surface.

There was a loud mechanical click and a hiss of depressurizing air and the door behind him slid open. A tall armored man, dressed in polished silver-red armor, slid into the copilot's seat.

"How're we doing, Vhetin?" he said, setting his helmet on the floor next to his seat.

"We should arrive within a few hours," the first man, Vhetin, said. "I have to take it a little slower than usual to avoid such a hot entry burn."

"Take your time," Rame said, putting his hands behind his head. "Our little jewel isn't exactly going anywhere."

Vhetin stared calmly out of the view port as he guided the ship down towards Corulag. The space outside the cockpit began to glow red-hot as they tunneled deeper into the planet's atmosphere. After a short time Rame sat forward and looked through the computer screen, checking for any incoming enemies.

"I checked a few seconds ago," the first man said. "No one in sight."

"Not yet, anyway. But I'd be willing to bet you a gallon of _ne'tra gal_ that we're going to meet heavy resistance before this mission's through."

"What makes you think that? This base is supposed to be classified. A large military presence would only draw attention."

The silver-red armored man, Rame, gestured to the planet below them. "Just look at the place, Vhetin. It's _Corulag_ we're talking about. Out of all the planets in the Empire, it's the number one model for _Imperial order_. Do you really think we're going to get any help from anyone down there?"

The first man, Vhetin, shook his head. "If everything goes according to plan, we won't need any help."

Rame shook his head, a slight smile stretching across his face. "And here I was, thinking I taught you how to be smart."

"You did," Vhetin said, pulling his helmet over his head. "But there seems to be a difference between Mandalorian intelligence and everyone else's intelligence, wouldn't you say?"

Rame grinned and replied, "You've got that right."

* * *

><p><strong> Corulag, Javilion Forest<strong>

The next day dawned dreary and damp. Thankfully, the moist air and thick cloud cover of the day before had shielded the view of _Void_'s entry burn, keeping them unnoticed as they had slipped into the lower atmosphere. The ship was now far away from the TIE Fighter sentries and safely hidden in the back forest, about a mile from the complex.

The stormtroopers outside the fortress were having a hard time walking in the mud, and were complaining about the lack of real roads this far back in the mountains. Their complaints fell on mostly deaf ears, but Rame was listening intently.

_ Boots sticking in the mud, _the quiet, analytical part of his mind whispered. _That'll decrease their mobility. Make them easier to pick off._

But it would also decrease Vhetin's mobility, as he would be the one infiltrating the outpost. That made the mud a double-edged sword, and a potential problem they'd need to keep an eye on.

Fully dressed in his _beskar _combat armor, Rame was currently situated on the sturdy branch of one of the forest's massive trees. The forest only thirty feet beyond had been leveled, cleared away long ago when the base was still being built. It was supposed to give the base a "killing zone" as it were for any escaping prisoners. If someone miraculously made it out, there would be no cover, and manned turrets on the walls or the stormtrooper guard outside would mow down the escapee with ease.

He hunched lower and increased magnification on his helmet's HUD with the blink of an eye, studying the outpost for weaknesses.

BlueSend prison complex was a collection of drab, slate-gray buildings with little or no windows, spread out across a small hill. The entire complex stretched out in a rough circle with maybe a half-mile radius. He quickly picked out the mess hall, the command center, the comm relay, and the shipyards. All were fairly spread out so that a single missile strike wouldn't take out all the important parts of the facility.

It was big as prison facilities went, and Rame was certain there weren't holding cells in _all_ those buildings. This had been cause for some initial concern. Some subtle investigation soon provided the answer. BlueSend was a large but narrowly focused military company, giving funding to military prisons and correctional facilities. A cursory examination of the outpost's quarterly reports provided the answer; the prison was also a hotspot for experimental interrogation. They billed the Empire for all kinds of related equipment: electro-shock binders, hallucinogens for IV injections, and lots and lots of truth serum.

The base was using its prisoners as lab rats for experimental torture techniques. Rame couldn't help but admire the cunning plan: no one really cared about the rights of convicted criminals, and if all went as the Imperials wanted it, no one would even know any of them were here.

The landing pad was situated at the highest point of the hill. The rest of the buildings were roughly clustered around it, like ancient buildings clustered around a temple. Obviously BlueSend Naval Base was highly dependent on outside support, despite its top-secret classification. If he had to bring _Void _in to pick Vhetin up, that was where he'd have to go.

But it wasn't going to be easy. The landing pad was covered from all conceivable directions by five computer-guided turbolaser turrets. More than one shot from those babies could blast a transport like _Void _to bits. But...

He zoomed in closer on the troopers who were standing a good distance from the entrance. Stupidly, they were gathered around a fuel pod, warming themselves from the heat the pod gave off as it supplied power to one of the large turrets.

An idea suddenly came to him. A single well-placed sniper bolt would blow the pod, take out the troopers near it, provide a big enough distraction for Vhetin to cut his way through the thick boundary wall without interference, _and_ severely cripple one of the turrets.

He shook his head, almost pleased for once at Imperial stupidity. They had single-handedly provided him with an entrance plan.

_ Okay, so Vhetin has a way in. Now what about a way out? When they see he's in there, they'll lock down the gate and guard the hole that he cuts through the wall._

He frowned inside his helmet, keeping a close eye on the movements of the troopers.

_ Flying _Void _into the facility is out of the question. She would be shot down before she made it past the northern perimeter. And Cin can't carry his own weight plus that of the bounty on his jetpack alone, not even with that fancy new FLT-23 model. So what do we do?_

He examined the edge of the walls. The rest of the fuel pods were too far out of range to take out with the sniper rifle.

_ But_, he suddenly thought_, those are just the fuel pods. There's got to be a coolant intake station somewhere in the base that supplies coolant fluid to all the operational turrets._

He followed the large fuel pipes running from the closest turret. They twisted behind buildings, around stationary spotlights, and through the legs of guard towers. They even dipped underground in one place.

He paused and zoomed in even further on the place where they disappeared under the ground. It looked like it was part of the well-guarded command center.

_ If the coolant intake station is under that building, _he thought, _Vhetin can pop in, take out the station, and overload the turrets. Then I can fly _Void _into the facility and pick them up and we blast out of there without a moment to spare._

He nodded. It wasn't the best plan, and he didn't enjoy making things up on the fly, but it was possible. He just hoped Cin would be able to pull it off.

Vhetin waited as the exit ramp lowered with a whine of hydraulics. It made a wet slapping sound as it hit the muddy ground, sinking a few inches into the damp forest floor. He strode down the ramp, pulling on one of his heavy-duty _beskar _gauntlets.

Rame was already in position, hidden up in the trees overlooking the high walls of the prison complex and ready to start his distraction at a moment's notice. He'd been on comms with Vhetin for the last ten minutes, explaining his entrance plan.

"_I hope this doesn't turn into a chase_," the man muttered over his internal helmet comlink.

"Why?" Vhetin asked. He pulled his helmet over his head and gave his HUD a moment to boot up and link with the world around him. Thousands of letters and numbers scrolled over the holographic display before fading into nothingness. There was a silent blast of amber light, then his HUD began displaying information about the forest around him: the movement of the trees as they swayed in the chilly breeze, the amounts of trace gasses in the atmosphere, the distant roar of TIE fighters, even the view of the area directly behind him. He was now completely in tune with the world around him. Nothing could hide from him.

"_The ground's so moist, it'll slow you down_," Rame replied. "_If you had troopers on speeders, there'd be no chance in hell you could outrun them_."

Vhetin shrugged. "Let's play it by ear for a bit. If I can take out the turrets guarding the base, it won't even be a problem. You can just pick us up in _Void_."

Rame chuckled. "_Let's hope your bounty is worth all the trouble we're about to cause._"

He nodded and set off into the forest at a jog. "Are you ready?"

"_Yeah. I'm just waiting for you to move your bulk to the forest edge. And do make sure you get out of there in one piece. I'd hate to have to tell Brianna you're dead. She'd probably shoot me._"

"Just be ready," he said, and disappeared into the forest.


	5. ACT TWO: Chapter 1

ACT 2: Chapter 1

The sun was setting after an agonizingly tense day, and the storms were moving in once more. Stormtrooper PA-979 looked up at the dark sky, the clouds lit intermittently by distant explosions of white-hot lightning. He checked his rifle's power cartridge and sat down on a crate next to the main gate, listening to the distant rumble of thunder.

Kark it, the outpost was tense. All he'd done all day was walk from one end of the wall to the other, yet he was still exhausted. Three different officers had shouted at him over the course of the day for small reasons. One of the commanders had even given him a shouting for not standing straight enough while patrolling. Everyone was on edge, and would continue to be on edge for some time, even though Vader had left earlier that day.

_ Just two more months and my rotation's up_, he thought. _Then it's back to civilian law enforcement patrol on Triple Zero. Vader won't be popping in on me there._

PA-979 shuddered at the mere thought of the black-helmeted nightmare who'd stalked the halls of the prison earlier that day. The man was a menace to everything that moved. The way he'd snapped those two pilot's necks? Captain Kol was a good guy, no threat to anyone. And Vader came in and executed him just for the hell of it?

That wasn't leadership. That was _insanity_.

"_Psst_."

There was a hiss of static over his comlink. PA-979 started and tapped a finger against the unit, sheathed under the armor covering his right ear. The stupid units were always malfunctioning. A few troopers he knew had even gone deaf because of random blasts of sound that sporadically came over the comms. After a moment the static came back. What was that?

_ "Psst._"

It wasn't static. It was a voice streaming in over his comlink.

"_Psst_," it whispered. "_Hey, you there. Shiny-boy by the gate._"

He grabbed his rifle and looked around in alarm. "What? Who's there? Show yourself!"

"_Hey shiny-boy?_"

"Show yourself!" 979 snapped, checking the charge on his rifle.

"_Shiny-boy, I'd shut up and cover my ears if I were you._"

"Wha-"

His voice was cut off by a deafening explosion nearby, followed by loud screams of pain that ripped over his internal comlink. Flames erupted hundreds of feet into the air further down the wall.

979's head snapped around and he jumped to his feet. Another trooper, YI-354, barreled through the gate, rifle in hand. He stared around, then called over to 979.

"What the hell was that?"

979 shrugged, casting a nervous glance towards the trees. Whatever that explosion was, the voice that had spoken to him earlier was behind it somehow. "I don't know what that was. Do you think we should check it out?"

YI-354 shook his head. "I'll stay here and guard the gate. You go see what happened."

979 nodded, angrily thinking, _Sure, _you _get to stay and guard the gate._

He set off at a slow jog towards the source of the explosion. He saw the rest of his platoon, all dead or severely wounded, scattered around a smoking crater that had once been a heated fuel pod to the turbolaser turret on the wall above. The huge turret itself was leaning dangerously to one side. Smoke was billowing from its multiple barrels, though blinking green lights on its housing showed that the laser was still functional.

He'd known each and every one of these men. He'd grown up with them these men, trained with them here on Corulag. His heart began to pound with rage.

The voice. Whoever had spoken to him had done this.

_ I'd cover my ears if I were you_, the voice had said. Did their attacker think this was some kind of _joke_?

He spun to the forest and screamed, "_Where are you_?"

The forest remained silent, the trees looking dark and forbidding.

"You killed them all! Where are you?!"

But the voice didn't come back. There was nothing over his comlink but silence.

When there was no answer, he clicked off his rifle's safety and let a barrage of blaster bolts scream into the forest. He kept shooting until the weapon clicked empty.

The forest was still silent, nothing moving but the slight waving of the leaves.

As he reached for another clip, however, a shadow darted from the trees, sprinting towards him. He slammed the magazine into the housing and raised the rifle. Before he could squeeze off a shot, a hand grabbed him by the arm and twisted him around.

A fountain of deep blue light erupted out of his chestplate with a snapping sputter. Time seemed to stop; he could suddenly hear nothing but the hum of the blade and the quiet sizzle as it burned and cauterized his flesh. He coughed and dropped his gun. It fell to the ground next to him with a clatter that seemed to echo as if heard from the end of along tunnel.

His attacker withdrew the blade and tossed him aside. He fell to the ground with a crash of armor plates and tried weakly to crawl away. His legs twitched and he coughed, smoke wafting lazily from his mouth. He watched through streaming eyes as a man in black battle armor knelt over him.

_ Vader?_ His head was spinning in pain and confusion. As the man came nearer, however, he realized his mistake.

_ A Mandalorian? A kriffing _Mandalorian?

The man stared at him through his own cruel-looking battle helmet and tipped his head to one side slightly.

"You'll live," the man said quietly. "But you aren't going to ruin my only entrance point by raising the intrusion alarm."

979 began to whimper with fear as the man produced a long syringe. The Mandalorian said, "I'm not going to kill you. Calm down."

The syringe drifted closer. There was a quick flash of pain, then trooper PA-979 fell down into a deep, calm unconsciousness.


	6. ACT TWO: Chapter 2

ACT 2: Chapter 2

"_What was all that about?"_

Vhetin shrugged as he ignited his other lightsaber and began cutting through the last of the two-foot-thick duracrete wall that the fuel pod had failed to carve away. "Your 'shiny-boy' wasn't evil. He was just doing his job."

"_Nice to know I taught you ethics after all_," Rame said, still providing sniper cover in the trees. "_There may be hope for you yet._"

"The ethical thing to do would have been to put him to sleep first and not stab him at all," Vhetin pointed out.

"_Good point._"

The last chunks of duracrete melted away and Vhetin ducked through the hole he'd made in the outer wall. He looked over his shoulder into the trees. "You have me covered?"

"_No one's going to touch you_," Rame said. "_At least not till you get inside the command center. Then you're on your own._"

Vhetin nodded and sprinted towards the command center. "See you in a bit, then."

Rame's end of the comlink closed and Vhetin set off at a run for the command center. He had to take out the coolant intake system so he could get out of here when he needed to.

A stormtrooper jumped into his path, leveling his rifle and barking, "Freeze!"

Vhetin just lowered his head and grabbed the trooper around the waist, tackling him _meshgeroya-_style. The trooper grunted and fell to the ground. The trooper's sergeant glanced over and did a strange little stutter-step in surprise. Then he pulled out a pistol and discharged it into the air three times. Troopers all over the camp glanced toward the source of the sound.

Vhetin grabbed the sides of the trooper's helmet and twisted, snapping his neck. The sergeant took a step toward as Vhetin stood, then was blasted sideways off his feet as Rame shot the man in the side of the helmet.

The clearing froze, every trooper staring at the downed sergeant with shock and disbelief. Then, as one, they broke and ran in all directions.

"_Sniper in the trees_!" A voice blared over the intercom speaker, making troopers around him scramble for cover. "_Sniper in the trees_!"

"Thanks for that," Vhetin grunted as he calmly set off at a jog toward the command center again.

"_No problem_," Rame replied, then began picking off stormtroopers at random as they scrambled for cover. "_Just keep your head down, _ner vod."

Vhetin nodded and broke into a run again.

Blaster bolts began flying into the trees in random directions, troopers screaming orders to concentrate on particular targets at the forest edge – all plastoid decoys set up by Vhetin and Rame during the night. Vhetin cracked the slightest smile. Those troopers would hit the orbiting Star Destroyer before they hit Rame.

As Vhetin ran past, two troopers jumped out from their cover behind a stack of durasteel water barrels to chase after him. They quickly scrambled back to cover as Rame stitched the ground at their feet with blaster bolts. Vhetin ignored them and kept running.

With a deafening roar, three TIE fighters lifted off from a nearby docking pad, no doubt going to call for help at the nearest outpost and bring back more air support. That was a serious problem, but a problem easily solved. Vhetin halted, spread his feet, and leveled his right arm at the closest fighter. He locked his elbow, then fired a small rocket from his armored gauntlet. The force of the rocket shooting away drove him back a few steps.

The tiny rocket flew towards the nearest TIE, trailing a two-foot tail of flame, and breached the front transparisteel viewport. A moment later, the ship exploded in a shower of flame and shrapnel. One of the other ships was caught in an electromagnetic shock wave as the ion drive of the first ship exploded. The powerless fighter nose-dived into a nearby bunker, taking it out before the troopers within could run for new cover.

"Rame," he said over the comm, "I need that other TIE taken out."

"_Done._"

A high-power blaster bolt flew from the trees and hit the weakest spot on the fighter: the small support strut anchoring the huge wing panel to the smaller pod-like cockpit. The decagonal wing flew off the rest of the ship, and the ship spun wildly before crashing into a huge tree to the west.

"Nice shot," Vhetin said as he set off again.

"_I've always wanted to try that_," Rame replied. "_But keep your mind on what you're doing._"

Vhetin stopped for a moment to take in his surroundings; fire was literally raining down from the sky, thanks to the wreckage of the TIE fighters; troopers were running for their lives, some screaming, others just wordlessly dashing for cover; and still that annoying intercom voice was screaming, "_Sniper in the trees! Sniper in the trees!_"

_ I need to get to the command center, _Vhetin thought to himself, _and take out that coolant system_.

The command center wasn't hard to find. It was a low, rectangular building adorned with black flags bearing the Imperial Wheel and decorated with intricately carved black-and-white mosaics on the outside walls – probably courtesy of the local artisans 'free of charge.' Vhetin dashed towards the building.

He stopped short as a stormtrooper barreled into him, tackling him from the side. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and armor plates. Vhetin somersaulted backwards to his feet and ignited a single blue-bladed lightsaber. The trooper pulled off a few poorly aimed blaster shots. Vhetin easily dodged them, spun, and slashed, neatly decapitating the trooper. The soldier's body crumpled to the ground as Vhetin continued on his way.

"_Jangoed with style_," Rame observed from his sniper post.

"Shut up, Rame," Vhetin panted, his heart pounding. He deactivated the saber, clipped it to his belt, and sprinted towards the command building.

He didn't see any defensive turrets or any particular kind of security measures, but he couldn't be too careful. This was a prison, after all. He flanked the entrance door, pulled his rifle from its sling over his shoulder, and took a deep breath.

_ Every time I do this, _he thought, _these few seconds before I go in could be my last._

He let out his breath explosively and slapped a breach charge on the center of the door, then took cover around the corner. He counted off three seconds, then braced himself as the door charge blew and the reinforced doors slid open with a loud groan.

He threw himself through the entrance and squeezed off six shots. The _snap_ of his rifle sounded loud, even compared to the pandemonium outside.

Seven bodies fell to the ground. Vhetin frowned and stared at his rifle. _What?_

"_You missed one_," Rame said.

"Oh," Vhetin said. That explained the extra body. "Thanks."

"_Well? Is he there?_"

"The bounty?"

He heard Rame sigh over the comlink. "_Stay focused Vhetin. Try to think of more than one objective at a time. Yes, the bounty. Is he there?_"

Vhetin stared around the room. "No. I'll keep my eyes peeled while I look for the coolant system."

"_Okay. Schematics show that it should be in the basement. Sub-level B._"

Vhetin kicked down doors, killed troopers who jumped towards him, passed by cowering prison officials without arming them. They weren't his problem. As long as they stayed down, he wouldn't bother them.

He made his way deeper into the command center, until he came to a tall door. He blew the door in with a simple det charge. As he entered the room, he saw a long, twisting stairway leading down.

"Sub-level B you said?" Vhetin asked.

"_Yeah. B as in bottom._"

Vhetin sighed. It would take too long to take the stairs, so there was only one option. He gritted his teeth.

"I hate doing this," he said, then jumped over the safety rail. His _kama _flew out around him as he plummeted down the central space, falling several stories. He saw platforms and floor numbers fly past, and his HUD was blaring an alarm. Large red letters flashed COLLISION ALARM, FIRE EMERGENCY THRUSTER SYSTEM_._

Vhetin waited two moments more before he triggered his jetpack. A wash of white-hot flame erupted from the thrust tubes, slowing his descent.

He landed neatly on the bottom floor, driven to his knees from the force of his landing. His jetpack sputtered and died.

Vhetin glanced up, then set off down the dark hall. He heard a heavy metallic thrum, so loud that it made the air vibrate, and his helmet's audio dampers quieted the sound to protect his hearing. He put a hand against the duracrete wall and felt it vibrating with a rhythmic pulse, like a tremendous heartbeat.

This was definitely near the coolant intake system. He looked upwards and saw huge coolant pipes stretching over his head.

Wary of armed stormtroopers, he followed the pipes down the hall. They twisted and turned through the underground structure, but they weren't that hard to follow. He had to pause and deal with several armed guards who took potshots at him as he rounded corners, but they were little more than an inconvenience; nothing too serious.

He finally followed the pipes to a huge reinforced door that looked like it could take a direct hit from a rocket launcher and still remain intact.

"Rame, I'm at the coolant intake system door," he said over the comlink. "I need you to slice into the security system and tell me how to get this thing open."

The transmission that came back was garbled and full of static; he was too deep underground to get a clear communication.

"_-arely getting you... -ut I'll...-o my best_," Rame said.

Vhetin nodded and waited by the door as Rame sliced into the system.

"_-kay_," he came back. "_-hat you need to do... -ust open the door panel... -ull out the... -reen and red w... -epeat, green and red wires... -onnect them and it'll...-hort the door open._"

"_Okay_," Vhetin said, getting the gist of what Rame had said. He needed to connect the green and red wires to short the door open.

He quickly and easily did as Rame suggested, using the butt of his rifle to crack open the door's control casing and pulling out the sparking wires within. As he pressed the green and red wires together, there was a loud rumble from within the wall, and the huge doors began to move. Vhetin stepped around the corner and waited for the doors to open. As soon as he could, he slipped through the door.

He froze as he saw what was on the other side.

Oh the coolant intake system was there; a tangled mess of pipes and collector tubs of bluish fluid that fed up into the turrets. But guarding it were no less than twenty stormtroopers and a single armored Imperial scout walker. Even as he watched, the troopers leveled their rifles and the AT-ST swiveled its cannons to face him.

"Oh, sh-"

Then they opened fire.

Vhetin instinctively blasted upward on his jetpack and the blaster bolts missed him entirely. He leveled out, floating almost ten feet above the ground, and fired a wrist rocket into the bulk of the troopers. The blast sent half the troopers flying deep into the coolant tubs, where the corrosive liquid instantly began to eat away at their armor. A few moments later he heard screams as it began its work on their flesh.

But there were still ten troopers left _and _a kriffing AT-ST. Vhetin cut power to his pack and landed hard on the ground, somersaulting and igniting both his lightsabers. The troopers opened fire, filling the air with blaster fire. He caught four bolts in the armored chest plate, knocking the breath out of him, but he kept moving toward them.

He jumped into the air, using his jetpack to help him into a rocket-assisted front flip. He landed in the middle of the troopers and spun, taking a stormtrooper's legs off at the knee. The trooper fell onto the stumps of his limbs, screaming before Vhetin kicked him hard in the faceplate and knocked him unconscious. He used the kick as momentum for a spin, lashing his foot out at another trooper and hitting him in the armored stomach.

He jumped back as a blaster bolt hit near his feet. He swiveled to the trooper who had shot, cut his gun in half, then drove both his sabers into the man's chest till the hilts touched his chest plate. The trooper hit the ground with a gurgle as Vhetin spun and decapitated another.

Three down, seven more to go.

The trooper he'd kicked in the stomach was getting his breath back and prepared to charge him. Vhetin leveled his left arm and shot his whipcord, tangling the man's legs and sending him sprawling. He pivoted his shoulder and fired a miniscule dart into unarmored neck of another trooper. The man clapped his hand to his neck and fell, sputtering and twitching as the venom within the dart quickly took hold of his nervous system.

He heard a metallic groan behind him and glanced at his 360-degree vision window. It showed the AT-ST lifting it's large foot, getting ready to crush him. He backpedaled just in time to narrowly avoid pulverization. As it was, the walker crushed the two troopers Vhetin had incapacitated.

Vhetin hesitated. He hadn't meant for those two to die. They would have been fine within a few hours. He scowled at the waste of life, then triggered his jetpack and landed on the support platform that anchored the command pod of the walker - its "head" - to its thin, weak-looking legs. Holding onto the back of the AT-STs right laser turret, he dug a lightsaber deep into the machinery beneath the command pod and dragged sideways.

The command pod separated from its legs with a shower of sparks and a loud sizzle. It fell to the ground with a tremendous crash while the legs continued to walk, futilely attempting to carry out their last command. Vhetin himself backflipped off the sparking support platform, landing upright a few feet away.

He walked up to the command pod and, with a single stroke, cut it in half horizontally. Two Imperial walker pilots cowered within, covering their heads and whimpering. Vhetin scowled and shot both men with paralyzing darts.

So the bulk of the problem had been dealt with, but there were still five more troopers. Why weren't they shooting at him?

He slowly looked around, breathing hard, but didn't see them anywhere. The room around him was still, save for the sporadic sparks of the downed AT-ST. The troopers must have run when they saw the AT-ST go down.

Convinced he was safe for now, he deactivated his lightsabers and hooked them on his belt.

He took a deep, calming breath and headed toward the coolant intake system's main control. It was a large control panel situated on a platform overlooking the twisted mess of pipes and vats that feed liquid coolant to the huge turbolaser turrets in the outpost above.

He looked over the complicated panel; there were buttons and levers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some he recognized, like an intercom control. He quickly keyed it off so he wouldn't have to pretend to be a technician down here if someone called in for a sit-rep. The rest of the buttons, however, were completely beyond his training with mechanics.

He was supposed to destroy this system, but he didn't have a single clue how.

_ Hmm. _He tried to establish a comm channel with Rame. Maybe he would know how to shut this thing down. But after a few moments, he still got nothing but static. He cursed quietly; he must be too deep now for any signal to get through.

_ Well,_ he thought, _simple plans are usually the most effective_.

So he pulled a fragmentation grenade off his belt and lobbed it straight into the middle of the tangle of pipes.

A small explosion echoed through the large room as the frag detonated. The shrapnel that flew outward penetrated hundreds of pipes, spilling acidic coolant solution everywhere. The coolant began eating through other pipes and control panels, which began to smoke. A warbling alarm went off somewhere in the room, and a much larger explosion blossomed from end of a large pipe.

Vhetin stood near the door, surprised. _It worked_, he thought. _That stupid plan actually worked._

Then he turned and sprinted back the way he'd come as the coolant intake system shook itself to pieces behind him.

It didn't take him long to get back to the huge staircase he had jumped down. He took two steps up the stairs, relieved that he finally could conserve some fuel in his jetpack.

Then a huge explosion shook the base, coming from the direction of the room he'd just destroyed.

"_-hat would be the turret above the coolant intake system collapsing," _Rame said suddenly over the comlink. "_And communications are back, by the way._"

"Good to know." Vhetin looked back into the tunnel and saw an ominous glow lighting up the hall, accompanied by a colossal roar that his audio dampers had trouble muffling. After a moment, a wall of fire rushed down the tunnel, heading straight for him.

"Uh-oh," Vhetin muttered. He triggered his jetpack and blasted upward. It didn't help; the fire was still gaining. The inferno hit the bottom of the stairs and flew up the stairwell, filling the area below him with swiftly approaching flames. Vhetin gritted his teeth and tried to push the jetpack harder. The pack screamed in protest and the jets sputtered dangerously, but the speed of his ascent quickened. Still, the fire grew closer and closer until he could feel it licking around his chest. He looked sideways and saw the floor numbers rapidly flashing past him.

12...10...8...5...

_ Still too slow! _The edges of his vision began to glow red-hot as the fire engulfed him and his audio dampers could do nothing to filter out the deafening roar of the flames around him. He could feel his combat suit burning away, the fire searing his skin. He had to get out, but any kind of random course correction would slam him right against a wall of duracrete. His only chance was if he could somehow break through a wall into a room beyond. His best chance was the lobby he had come from.

He watched the floor numbers flash by, knowing that the slightest miscalculation would leave him looking like little more than a charred splat on the wall. He closed his eyes and thought, _kriff this is going to hurt. _Then, when he judged the timing to be right, he let out a yell and blasted himself sideways.

For a moment, he knew he hadn't made it; he met only unyielding duracrete. But then he heard a deafening _crack_ and felt the wall give way_. _He broke through and landed in a heap in the main foyer of the command center. Chips of seared duracrete cascaded down around him, making quiet _pock, pock_ sounds as they bounced across the marble floor.

For a moment, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Dust and ash rained down around him as he tried to push himself up onto his knees and fell heavily to the floor again. He rolled onto his back, watching a six-foot pillar of fire rush out of the hole he'd made in the wall. After a few moments, the flame was sucked back down the tunnel from which it had come, leaving the lobby silent and still.

_ That was lucky, _he had time to think.

Then he let out a breath and collapsed in a heap, coughing uncontrollably. Once he'd regained his composure, he stood and shook ash and duracrete dust off his shoulders. He looked around himself, taking in his surroundings.

The once-pristine foyer of the command center was now in ruins. Chunks of duracrete littered the tiled floor and fires randomly dotted the room.

"_You okay?_" Rame said over the comlink.

Vhetin glanced at the hole in the wall. Smoke was still wafting from it, but the fire had died. "I'm a little toasted, but I'm okay. And the turrets are out."

"_That's one problem down._"

Vhetin nodded, ducking into a back room so no passing troopers would see him. "In the meantime, we've got another one. Our bounty is nowhere to be seen."

"_Give me a minute. I'll see if I can trace his comlink._"

"Don't bother," Vhetin said. He brushed some sheets of flimsi off the desk in the center of the room and picked up a small black cylinder made of polished durasteel. "It's here, sitting on his desk. The General must have bugged out pretty fast when he saw me heading toward the command center."

"_Your reputation precedes you._"

"Apparently," he murmured. "Where could he have gone? All the ships have been taken out."

"_Accessing schematics of the prison... okay, there's only one place he could've gone. There's an emergency passage behind the southeastern wall that leads to the prison facility. Oh, Death Row. Very nice escape route._"

Vhetin nodded and turned to the wall. It was covered by a durasteel holobook shelf, that covered the entire wall with shimmering holographic "books."

"_Can you find some kind of secret switch?_"

Vhetin remembered how easily he'd taken out the coolant intake system. Maybe he could simplify this as well. He took a few steps back and leveled his arm, hooking his last wrist rocket to the launcher on his gauntlet.

"Who needs a secret switch?" he said.

He raised his arm and fired the rocket at point-blank range. The holobook shelf exploded in a cloud of debris and the hidden durasteel door behind it was blown inward, wide enough that he could fit through.

"See?" he said. "No problem."

As he ducked into the small opening he'd made in the door, he paused. A large plaque of durasteel had gone flying off the desk when he'd bashed through the wall. The force of the explosion from the fire had embedded it into the duracrete next to the door.

It was a name plaque, engraved with an elaborate signature: General Ponsius Luun.

He smiled with satisfaction and pulled himself through the door. His hunt was almost over.


	7. ACT TWO: Chapter 3

ACT 2: Chapter 3

Luun cowered in the dank cell, frantically coding in a priority-one emergency broadcast on a comlink he'd taken from a dead stormtrooper. When he broke through all the security codes and the moronic secretaries and finally reached Lord Vader on Coruscant, he was quivering in terror.

"_What is it, General?_" Vader said, his baritone voice streaming from the comlink far too loud.

Luun swiftly turned the volume down and whispered, "Lord Vader! Thank the Emperor I was able to get hold of you!"

"_Has Captain Kolta divulged the name of her employer yet?_"

"No! N-no, my lord. The prison is under attack and the assailants are inside the walls. The reports say there are at least five of them, plus _three_ snipers! I think they're bounty hunters!"

There was silence from Vader's end of the comlink.

"They must be after me! Ever since that post on Ryloth..."

When there was still no answer, Luun almost fainted in terror. A loud explosion came from further down the hall behind him and he whipped around.

_ They've breached the security door!_

He turned back to the comlink, clutching at it like a drowning man clutching to a flotation device. "L-lord Vader?"

"_That is..._" Vader paused for entirely too long. "_That is most disappointing, General._"

The comlink went dead.

"L-lord Vader? Lord Vader!" Luun sputtered, shaking the comlink. "Lord Vader, _save me_!"

But the Sith did not speak again.

Vhetin squeezed through the gap in the security door, rifle held at the ready.

Death Row was not a pretty sight. Dirty cell bars flanked by dirty walls over a dirty floor illuminated by dirty light. Vhetin's lip curled in disgust as he stepped around a large puddle of off-color liquid. The prisoners were all either cowering at the back of their cells or pressed up against the bars, watching him with contempt. One of the latter, a muscled behemoth filled with tattoos, spat at him as he passed.

"Hey bucket-head!" he called out. "Come to spring one of us?"

"Rot there," Vhetin replied, scowling at the man's use of the derogatory term _bucket-head_. "I'm not here for any of you. I have an appointment with the good general."

Hearing this, a few of the inmates cheered and called out, "Go get him bucket-head!"

Vhetin ignored them all. Halfway down the hall, however, he paused outside the cell of one prisoner who was cowering in the back, crying. That voice almost seemed familiar.

"General Luun?" he asked with mock-kindness. "Is that you, _vod'ika_?"

The general whipped around, a small field pistol in his right hand. Vhetin instantly leveled his rifle and shot the back of Luun's hand. The general screamed and collapsed, curling into a ball and cradling his burned and bleeding hand.

Vhetin kicked the door in, rifle pointed squarely at Luun's head. The general was worth more alive, it was true, but if he tried to pull anything else Vhetin would fry him anyway. Reward money wasn't any good if the hunter was dead.

"On your feet," Vhetin growled, putting a hand under the general's arm and hauling him to his feet. "King Laatu sends his regards."

Luun spat in Vhetin's face, but it only hit his faceplate. The systems in his helmet's HUD sent an electrical charge across his visor, evaporating the spittle in a small puff of smoke and leaving his vision clear.

He was about to move out of the cell when his motion tracker showed movement behind him. His helmet's 360-degree vision picked up a shadow darting behind him, moving closer.

_Will these Imps never learn?_ he thought in exasperation.

He spun and pointed his rifle at the stormtrooper that had miraculously crept right up behind him. The first thing that struck him was that the trooper had a stylized helmet: a unique amalgamation of an old clone trooper's helmet and more modern stormtrooper tech. The trooper also had a pistol in each hand, both aimed squarely at Vhetin's forehead.

They stayed there, weapons aimed directly at each other's faces, for what seemed like an eternity.

"Go ahead," Vhetin finally said, tightening his finger on the firing stud. "Shoot, if you think you can pull it off before I do."

The trooper chuckled dryly. "Now why would I do that," he said, "when I was the one who called you here in the first place?"

Vhetin paused and his rifle barrel lowered the slightest bit. "Tammer?"

The old clone laughed and holstered his pistols. "It's good to see you, Vhetin."

"_Is that Tam?_" Rame said over the comlink. "_You didn't say he was your contact!_"

Vhetin slung the rifle over his shoulder, letting his guard down momentarily. He leaned forward and embraced the trooper for a moment. When Luun tried to use the distraction to run, Vhetin simply stuck his foot out and tripped him.

"Sorry about the rifle," Vhetin said as he pulled Luun back to his feet. "I didn't know who you were for a sec there."

"Don't mention it," Tammer said. He turned his gaze to Luun, scrutinizing the cowering man with obvious distaste. "I see you've found the _hut'uun _we call a general around here."

"It took a bit of a chase," Vhetin said, tightening his grip on Luun's arm as the man tried to pull away again, "but yeah. I got him."

"You!" Luun cried, pointing his good hand at Tammer. "You're the one who's been leaking information to these... these... _bounty hunters_! I'll make sure you're court-martialed! Arrested! Executed! Lord Vader himself will know of your treachery against the Empire you disloyal, unfaithful dog! In fact-"

"May I?" Tammer asked, indicating Luun.

Vhetin inclined his head and stepped back. "Be my guest."

Tammer cocked his fist back and punched Luun squarely in the jaw. The general stumbled, fell to the ground, and started crying all over again.

"Thanks," Tammer said. "I've wanted to do that for a verylong time."

Vhetin hauled the blubbering general onto his feet again, regarding the Imperial with disgust. "My pleasure."

There was a brief moment of silence, during which an explosion went off somewhere outside the building. No one but Luun paid any attention. The general gasped and whimpered, "That was the command center!"

Vhetin regarded Tammer's armor, his eyes lingering on the red armor plate on his right shoulder. "So, you made full captain, eh?" he said. "Congratulations. I knew you had it in you."

Tammer shrugged and said, "The rank has its ups and downs. As a _flesh-droid_, I get no respect from my underlings and my superiors... well, they didn't like me from the beginning. But on the upside, I have leverage over three-quarters of the low-level and mid-level officers here. So at BlueSend, Tammer is the puppet-master."

Vhetin chuckled. "Heh. Well, there'll always be a place for you back on Mandalore."

Tammer suddenly hesitated, saying, "Yeah…"

Vhetin frowned. "What's the matter?"

The old clone awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot and quietly said, "Uh, Vhetin... I have a favor to ask you. For old time's sake."

"What?"

"Uh... well, follow me. It'll be easier to show you."

The clone gestured for Vhetin to follow and Vhetin, after some initial hesitation, shrugged and pulled a pair of binders from his belt. Pulling Luun's arms behind his back, he cuffed his arms together and murmured, "Looks like we're going for a bit of a detour. You should be thankful that you'll get to see your precious base one last time."

Then they set off down the dark, dank hallway, Vhetin half-dragging Luun after him. The general's boots dragged through the puddles that had collected on the floor as the man whimpered and resisted, pulling against him. Vhetin sighed, pulled his pistol, and shot Luun in the stomach with a low-energy stun bolt. The general sagged and Vhetin murmured, "I'll hit you with a real one next time if you don't move your feet. Last warning."

The general whimpered and reluctantly began walking.

"Good boy," Vhetin growled and shoved Luun in front of him, sticking the pistol in his back. "Now behave, and you'll have a few more hours before you're in any realtrouble."

They walked on in silence for a while before Tammer spoke.

"To tell the truth," he said, "I wasn't completely sure you remembered me."

"Sure I do," Vhetin replied. "We _Mando'ade _smuggle clones out of the military all the time, but it's not often that we try and smuggle a clone back _into _the Navy. Skirata still misses you, by the way."

Tammer chuckled. "Sentimental old _shabuir_. Tell him I send my regards, would you?"

"Sure thing. In the meantime, what's this favor you want me to do?"

Tammer paused by a cell and gestured at it with a sigh. "See for yourself."

Vhetin stopped and glanced into the cell. Propped up against the back wall was a woman, obviously unconscious. Her face was covered in purple-black bruises and her right eye was swelled completely shut.

"She can't stay here," Tammer said, sympathy evident in his voice.

Vhetin turned back to him, frowning. "You want me to break her out?"

"I'm not normally one to break people out of jail, but I need her gone. She's scheduled for execution."

Vhetin gazed around him with a skeptical eyebrow raised, even though Tammer couldn't see it. Yet another explosion went off somewhere in the distance and the ground rumbled beneath their boots, shaking small chunks of duracrete loose from the ceiling.

"This is just a hunch," he said, "but I think she'll be fine for a few months more. This place won't be able to administer execution services for a while."

"Please," Tammer pleaded. "She's here on false charges. She's innocent!"

Now _that_ was interesting, and it made Vhetin hesitate. Taking this woman with him would be risky. Luun was doing everything he could to stop their progress already, and this woman would undoubtedly slow them down even more. And he had no time for _aruetii _civilians.

But at the same time, Tammer had said the woman was innocent. That meant she didn't deserve to be in this prison cell. Unsurprisingly, the Empire had once again overlooked justice in order to further its own goals.

He scowled, staring at the woman. Would he have to sacrifice his mission to get her out? He couldn't do that. He had been hired to capture Luun and he wasn't going to let the general escape because of one falsely incarcerated prisoner.

But at the same time, he couldn't leave her here. If she was innocent, she deserved better than to rot in prison before a painful execution. And he wasn't the kind who could just walk away and let an innocent person die when there was something he could do about it.

He eventually sighed. "All right, you hit me in my soft spot. I'll take her with me. But _you _have to help get us out of here."

Another explosion shook the complex and Vhetin heard screams from outside. Tammer heard them too, for he glanced at the small window and said, "The way you've done this place in? I don't think anyone will notice."

"We'll see. Now hurry."

Tammer tried typing in the code to unlock the doors. The ray shields were down, but the doors were still locked. He frowned, then typed the code in again. The doors didn't budge. Tammer cursed and slammed his palm against the controls. "Damn it," he snapped. "Security lockdown secured the doors."

He turned to Vhetin and said, "Would you?"

Vhetin nodded and leveled his pistol at the cell door's hinges. He fired three times, once at each hinge, and the door fell to the ground with a loud _clang_. Tammer nodded in thanks before stepping inside and scooping the unconscious woman into his arms.

"Come on," he said. "We'll have to hurry if we want to make it to the gate."

"I've got another plan," Vhetin said. "All we have to do is get outside."

"Okay," Tammer said. "Can you carry her?"

Vhetin nodded and took the unconscious woman while Tammer drew his pistols. "I'll take point," the clone said.

"We'll be right behind you."

"_I _won't," Luun muttered stubbornly, and dug his soiled Imperial boots into the floor. Since Vhetin had his hands full while carrying the woman, Tammer pistol-whipped the general in the face. The general quickly grew more cooperative.

Tammer led them towards the secret security door; the one Vhetin had blasted his way through in order to get to the general.

"What exactly is this plan you've got cooked up?" Tammer said. "I hope it doesn't involve you blowing up this entire facility. That would look very bad on my report."

Vhetin shook his head. "A while ago, I took out the coolant intake system powering the turrets. Rame's going to come in and pick us up in _Void_."

"So that's what that first explosion was." Tammer nodded, clearing the room before saying, "All right. Come on through."

"Rame," Vhetin said as he kicked Luun in the backside, pushing him through the gap in the door, "I need you to come pick us up. We don't have much time."

"_Already here_," he replied. "_I made this easy on you and set down on the landing pad._"

Vhetin nodded and said to Tammer, "All right, Rame's waiting for us on the landing pad. We'd better head there to make sure we don't miss our extraction."

Tammer paused by the doorway. "Well, your ship's right there but… well, if it's not too much trouble, we need to make sure it looks like I'm not actually helping you."

Vhetin nodded, understanding. If the security cameras scattered around the prison perimeter showed Tammer helping them escape, another execution would soon be in order.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" he asked. "Skirata would be overjoyed to have you back."

"And leave my post just when things got interesting?" Tammer said with a chuckle. "Nah. I'll stick it out with the Empire for a while longer. But I'll watch the HoloNet intently for news on you, Vhetin. The way you attacked this outpost… that was amazing. Worthy of Fett himself."

"Boba?"

Tammer shook his head. "I've never met Boba. I'm talking about _Mand'alor_ Jango."

Vhetin cracked a bit of a smile and nodded toward the unconscious woman in his arms. "And any special requests for her?"

Tammer glanced at the woman and said, "Just make sure she's okay, then help her to start her life over. This'll be hard on her, but I'm sure she'll make it."

"She means a lot to you?"

Tammer chuckled. "An old clone like me makes friends wherever he goes. I think it's our charming personality. When she first came in here, I felt sorry for her. She was innocent and was going to be executed because of it. She turned out to be a pretty good friend to an old kath hound like me."

"Then I'll see you around."

"Not if I can help it," Tammer said, only half-joking. "It's not good for an up-and-coming officer like me to have connections to a bounty hunter such as yourself. No offense."

"None taken," Vhetin said. "Good luck Tammer."

"And to you, Cin," Tammer replied before settling into a firing position, his pistols held at arm's length. "In the meantime, I'll give you a five second head start."

Vhetin nodded with a grin, shoved Luun out in front of him and said, "If I were you, Imperial, I'd head for the ship. Tammer will be shooting to kill."

Luun gulped, then sprinted as fast as he could towards _Void_, which was resting on the landing pad, ready for immediate takeoff.

"You… you've picked up an extra one, Cin," Rame said a few moments later, standing on _Void_'s entrance ramp. "I don't know if you remember, but the contract said-"

He was cut off as Tammer planted two blaster bolts into the durasteel right next to his head.

"Holy…" Rame took a few steps away, his eyes wide. "What was _that_?!"

"Long story," Vhetin grunted, shoving Luun up the ramp. "Tammer is providing us with permission to take off."

"Well you don't have to _enjoy_ it so much!" Rame yelled at Tammer. The clone was standing about a hundred meters from the ship, unloading his pistols at them as they fled.

"Mandalorian scum!" he shouted at them.

"Fierfek." Rame shook his head in disbelief. "He's really pouring it on, isn't he?"

"Rame!" Vhetin snapped. "We need to leave! _Now_!"

Rame started and said, "Oh. Right." He ran back toward the cockpit, disappearing down _Void_'s main hall.

Vhetin shoved Luun into a nearby side room. The cramped compartment was filled with durasteel cages for storing bounties. Vhetin gestured at an open one and growled, "In you get, general. Here's your luxury quarters."

Luun stared at the cages and said, "You must be joking."

Vhetin scowled and said, "Get in or I'll put you in."

Luun stared at him, then grudgingly crawled into the cage and slammed the door shut behind him. Vhetin, adjusting his hold on the woman in his arms, reached over and hit a button on the wall. The space between the bars lit up with shimmering light that would keep the general penned in.

Once convinced that Luun was secure, Vhetin carried the unconscious woman into the sleeping quarters, where he secured her in rudimentary crash webbing. He triple-checked that she was safe, then headed toward the cockpit. He had to move carefully since the ship was already lifting off, and the deck was shaking beneath his boots.

He keyed open the door to the cockpit and stepped inside. Rame was sitting in the copilot's seat, his helmet resting on the floor next to him. He was typing in course corrections and setting up the navigational computer as the autopilot blasted away from the planet.

"How're we coming along?" Vhetin asked him.

"Luun's still in the cages, the ship seems to be clean of any other Imperial life, and we're well on our way out of here. So who the hell is the girl?"

"Long story. I'll tell you when we're away from this soakhole."

Rame sighed. "When we get back to Keldabe, drinks are on you, Vhetin. And believe me, I'm going to need 'em."

Vhetin let out a deep breath. "Fine. Let's go and collect our money, then head back home."

He checked the nav computer's hyperspace coordinates and found them satisfactory. No Imperials were moving to intercept them. The ones that were moving were headed down to the planet's surface, probably to the now-ruined BlueSend outpost. Satisfied that they were unseen, he pulled back a lever after the navicomputer signaled that the coordinates were set. There was a low rumble from deeper within the ship, then the stars blurred to streaks and exploded into the whirling blue-white tunnel of hyperspace.

Vhetin waited a few moments, then relaxed against the pilot's seat. He slowly removed his helmet and rubbed his tired, aching eyes. After a moment, he surveyed his equipment. His armor was burned and red-hot in some places, his combat suit was charred and burned, and he'd received a pretty nasty blaster burn to his shoulder.

He would bandage up his shoulder a little later. For now, he just sat back in his seat and closed his eyes.

_ Mission accomplished._


	8. ACT THREE: Chapter 1

ACT 3: Chapter 1

**Coordinates unknown, hyperspace tunnel en route to Nar Shadda**

Jay's head hurt; that was the first thing she remembered as the infinite black of unconsciousness peeled back to reveal a blurry gray field of vision. She blinked and moaned, trying to press a hand to her pounding head. She found that she couldn't move her arm.

Oh no. Had Vader broken it while interrogating her? She couldn't remember. She tried moving her other arm and found it just as unresponsive. She tried to sit up, only to be met with the same failure. She blinked, then winced as a splitting pain erupted in her head.

_ What the hell?_

She blinked again and tried to focus on the world around her. As her blurry vision resolved and became clearer, her worry quickly turned into confusion.

"This isn't the prison," she said out loud. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed very loud to her ears. "Where am I?"

She looked around, thankfully able to slowly move her head. Was she in the execution room already? Just how long had she been unconscious?

As she looked down at her arms, she realized she wasn't restrained with binders or electroshock shackles. Instead, she was held to a simple cot by protective crash webbing. She frowned in confusion as she unhooked herself and slowly sat up, rubbing her aching forehead.

She looked around herself, wincing as her muscles screamed in protest. She appeared to be on a ship, but what kind she couldn't tell. Was she being transferred to a different prison?

Whatever this ship was, she knew she was in the quarters. The strange thing was that there was no one else that she could see, and the Empire wouldn't transfer someone as insignificant as her on her own. She slowly slid off the cot and stood on shaky legs.

"Hello?" she called hoarsely. There was no answer.

She limped painfully toward the door, pressed the opening stud, and watched it slide open with a quiet sigh. Peeking out into the area beyond, she saw a long hallway lit from above with cylindrical fluorescent lights. Next to her door was a security panel, but the keys were inscribed with strange letters she didn't recognize. She thought about trying out a couple simple commands, then decided against it. If this was a prison ship, it would probably send the ship's enforcement officers right to her location.

_ But is this really a prison ship_? The more she dwelled on the possibility, the more she thought against it. This ship seemed to have no cells, no guards, no ray shields, no turrets… nothing.

_ So where am I_?

She almost screamed when she suddenly heard a door open. She stifled it into a quiet gasp and squeezed up against the wall, trying to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

Further down the hall, two people passed from one room to another, talking quietly. Once their voices had faded, Jay leaned out and scanned the corridor.

Empty. But she still heard voices coming from the room the two had entered. She crept forward and slipped through the still open door.

She was in what appeared to be the captain's quarters, or something very akin to that. It was a medium-sized room, maybe about the size of the crew's quarters she had left. There was a neat-looking cot against one wall, some kind of storage closet along another, and a durasteel desk seeming to flow straight from the metal of the wall closest to her. Scattered across the desk were holodocs with scrolling words she didn't have time to read.

The two people who had spoken before were standing in the room with their backs to her. One, possibly human, was wearing silver battle armor with red flashes, and had his arms folded across his chest. The other one, wearing dull black and gray armor, was storing a short-barreled rifle in the closet.

Mandalorians.

Perfect. That was just what she needed right now. So she'd been kidnapped? If they thought she had some kind of price on her head, they were wrong. She'd only ever meant something to the Empire and they'd already caught her.

She ducked down next to the desk and listened to the conversation that was taking place between the two.

"Remember Kalinitch?" Silver-Red was saying. "That stupid lizard went crazy as soon as we brought him to Mandalore."

"He was a Trandoshan. They're supposed to be crazy. It's in their blood."

Jay was surprised at how young Black-Gray's voice sounded. He almost sounded her age, around twenty. How could someone at her age give up a safe, legal career only to take up mercenary work?

_ A Mandalorian, I guess. Aren't they trained to fight from birth?_

"You're skirting the issue," Silver-Red snapped. "Answer the damn question."

Black-Gray sighed, turned away, and pulled off his helmet. Jay was almost relieved to see that he was human beneath the armor, even though his back was to her and she couldn't see his face. She saw short brown hair, then she ducked back behind the desk and listened as Black-Gray said, "_I_ barely know why I agreed to get her out of there. Tammer asked for a favor, so-"

Jay's confusion mounted. _Tammer_ had set these men up to… to what? Rescuing her? Kidnapping her? Spiriting her away to some Tatooine slave market, perhaps?

Silver-Red interrupted him angrily. "Answer the _question_, Cin. Why in the hell did you rescue her, too? Luun was the only target. She's of no value to anyone!"

Black-Gray set his helmet aside and began to pull armor plates off his combat suit, inspecting them before setting them aside. He paused, then said, "I… I don't know, all right? I made a split-second decision. Let's just wait and see if it was a good one or a bad one, all right?"

As Black-Gray pulled the top of his combat suit over his head, Jay stifled a gasp behind her hand. The man's pale back was covered in old, ropy scars. Jay counted at least seven, as well as what looked like a fresh blaster burn on his shoulder, hastily bandaged.

"How is she?" Black-Gray said as he examined his combat suit top. After a moment, he tossed it onto the cot and pulled an identical suit out of the closet in front of him. He pulled it over his head and began to replace armor plates.

Red-Silver shrugged. "Stable last time I checked her. Probably just sleeping off the last of whatever drugs they gave her down there. She looks like she was interrogated for some reason. She has multiple contusions on her face and neck, almost like she was choked and beaten, but I can't make out any finger marks from the assailant. I gave her bacta injections, so the majority of her bruises should clear up in a few hours, a day at most. I was worried there would be internal bleeding, but it didn't look like any of her wounds penetrated the skin."

Red-Silver paused, then said, "Are you sure it's such a good idea to bring her with us? I mean she is a Death Row prisoner."

Jay couldn't see Black-Gray's expression. His back was still turned. She could only see him turn his head slightly and murmur, "Are you scared of her?"

"Are you kidding? Not a chance. But she got into prison for a reason."

Black-Gray didn't say anything, but silently nodded. After some time of silence, Silver-Red shifted his weight and said, "We'd better check and see how close we are to Nar Shadda."

Black-Gray nodded and said, "You go ahead. I'm going to finish up checking my stuff, then I'll join you."

As Silver-Red turned, Jay began to move back out of the door, not wanting to be seen by the two. In the process, however, she accidentally knocked a small circular holoprojector onto the floor. The slight clatter it made caused Silver-Red to spin, drawing a pistol and pointing it squarely at her forehead. Black-Gray also jumped into action, swiftly replacing his helmet and spinning with his rifle at the ready.

Jay let out a small cry and froze, her eyes darting between the barrels of each blaster. Her eyes felt as wide as the large holoprojector she had knocked over. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Silver-Red sighed and relaxed, holstering his pistol and moving toward her. Jay shrank back against the wall. Silver-Red pulled off his helmet, revealing a kind face with a sympathetic smile.

"Sorry about that," he said, offering her a hand. When Jay didn't move, he sighed and said, "I'm a good guy. I won't bite, I promise."

Jay cautiously took his hand and let the man help her to her feet. "You just caught us by surprise, that's all," the man said with a reassuring smile.

Black-Gray said nothing and just stood in the corner with his rifle lowered, staring at her. She stared back at him, looking into the faceless battle helmet until she shuddered and looked back at Silver-Red.

"We weren't expecting you to be awake for a few hours yet," he said as he opened the door and led her out into the hall. "And even then we didn't know if you'd be able to walk."

Jay pulled out of the man's grasp and said, "Wait a minute. Who are you? And where am I?"

"I'm Rame Omotao, and my buddy back there is Cin Vhetin. You're currently onboard Vhetin's personal transport headed for Nar Shadda. What's your name?"

"Jay Kolta," she said, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "How… how did I get here?"

Rame let out a long breath and said, "It's a long story. Short version: We were headed down to that lovely prison of yours to capture an Imperial General by the name of Luun-"

"You're bounty hunters," she said.

"Actually, I only work part time. Vhetin back there is the complete bounty-hunting package. A seven-year veteran, actually."

Jay blinked, feeling her headache begin to return. This was all a little too much information for her in her still-feeble state.

"Anyway," Rame continued, "when he found out we were going to be passing through, your buddy Tammer gave Vhetin a call – discreetly of course - and said he'd give us Luun's location. When we got down there, he asked for a small favor: getting you out of prison. Vhetin got you out of there."

"You're the _old friends _he mentioned," Jay realized with dawning understanding.

_ I have a backup plan_, her friend had said._ Just some old friends who happen to be in the neighborhood._

"Probably." Rame shrugged. "We go back a long way. But enough of that for now. You need to rest for a while. You look pretty battered."

"What do you mean?" Jay asked.

Rame raised an eyebrow, then said, "You probably haven't been able to look in a mirror for a while, but whoever was in charge of Death Row back there beat you up pretty bad. Follow me and we'll head to the med bay."

She nodded and followed Rame down the central hall, leaving the Black-Gray Mandalorian behind. Towards the back of the ship, Rame keyed open a door and motioned her inside.

Through the door was a small room, about the size of Navy uniform closets in the Empire. But squeezed into the area was a medical table and a small cabinet that she supposed carried emergency supplies. It looked surprisingly versatile for such a small place.

Rame moved toward the cabinet and pulled out a simple syringe full of a clear liquid. As he turned, he said, "I just want to give you one more bacta injection, just to be sure you're okay inside and out."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she said. Bacta in the wrong doses could be lethal.

He smiled. "I'm a certified emergency med-tech. More or less."

"So you're a part-time bounty hunter and a doctor?" she asked skeptically.

"And a farmer," he said proudly as he swabbed her arm with alcohol. "All that wrapped up into a single well-armored package."

She nodded slowly and offered her wrist. She couldn't explain why, but she trusted this man. She didn't sense any hostility from him, despite his fearsome-looking battle armor.

He injected the bacta into her arm, making sure the plunger on the syringe was completely depressed before retracting the needle.

Jay blinked several times, feeling slightly dizzy as the bacta took effect. "So… you said I was beaten. Just how bad is it?"

He turned back to her and said, "Well, let me take a look…"

He touched her chin and turned her face slightly. After a moment, he turned her face the other way. He frowned with concentration and began feeling along her forehead, probably checking for fractures. After a few moments, he folded his arms across his armored chest and said, "Well… for now you look like _osik,_ but you should be as good as new in a few days.

"That's a relief… I think," she added, not quite sure what _osik_ meant. "When I woke up, I was so sore it felt like I was about to die."

"That's natural, considering all you've been through."

She looked around at her surroundings, then said, "So where exactly are we going?"

Rame turned to a sanitizer in the corner and began washing his hands. "Right now we're headed toward Nar Shadda to drop off that scum Luun and get paid. If you want, we can drop you off there. If not, we'll give you a lift to wherever you need to go. It's the least we could do."

"And after that?"

"Back to Mandalore," he replied with a slight smile.

"Mandalore?" she asked. She'd heard the planet's name in the past, but exactly where she didn't remember. "Is that like your home?"

He nodded. "A save haven for bounty hunters and the biggest spot of anti-Imperial sentiment in our sector of the galaxy."

"Oh," Jay said, nodding and feeling slightly foolish. "Of course. Mandalorians from Mandalore. That makes sense."

He let out a short laugh. "That's us _Mando'ade_ for you, always using our heads."

"You're teasing me." Jay narrowed her eyes, but couldn't hold back a grin. She found it hard not to like this man, no matter how many times she told herself he hunted people for a living. He seemed like a kind person.

"Maybe," he said, heading for the door and replacing his silver-red helmet. "Maybe not. If you need anything, I'll be in the cockpit."

She stopped him in the doorway. "Before you go, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Shoot." His voice sounded very different, much more menacing, coming from his helmet's vocoder.

She hesitated, then said, "Your friend… I don't remember his name."

"Vhetin?" Rame supplied, pausing in the doorway.

"Yes. You said he was the one that got me out of that prison?"

"Him and Tammer, yeah," Rame looked suddenly uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to know why."

He shook his head. "You and me both, sweetheart. You and me both."

She was about to ask what he meant by that, but before she could he put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Get some rest. Get used to your well-deserved freedom."

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Is that advice, or an order?"

"Whichever you'd prefer. But as long as you're onboard _Void_, no one's going to bother you. You're safe with us."

She nodded, still smiling. "Thanks. And thanks for getting me out of there."

"Not at all," he said and disappeared into the hall beyond. She listened to the sound of his heavy footfalls as they faded down the hall towards the cockpit. Then she lay back on the med table and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

_ Get used to your well-deserved freedom_, he'd said.

She thought she could do that.


	9. ACT THREE: Chapter 2

ACT 3: Chapter 2

Rame sat down in the copilot's seat with a sigh, then looked over at Vhetin, who was scanning through the nearest star systems on the ship's database.

"You okay?"

Vhetin's helmet was resting on the floor next to the pilot's chair. The bounty hunter's face was folded into a dark scowl as he punched at the controls to bring up another planet's info file. He rubbed at his chin as his eyes stared off into space, not really looking at anything. Looking inward, not out, as Brianna liked to say.

Rame put a hand on Vhetin's armored shoulder and shook him. "Hey, you listening?"

Vhetin shook his head and sighed. "I thought we were supposed to get in and out of there with minimal casualties."

"Okay, so the plan didn't go off flawlessly. It happens."

Vhetin let out a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, ain't that a bitch. And they paid for it with twenty-two innocent lives."

"They're _Imperials_, remember? I don't think you should be feeling sorry for them, 'cause they sure aren't feeling sorry for you."

"I don't feel sorry for them. But all they were doing was minding their own business, and we killed them in cold blood."

"Such is life," Rame pointed out.

He nodded and a familiar cold, steely look came into his eyes. "Yeah. Such is life. Kill or be killed, huh?"

He shook his head again, rubbed his eyes, then said, "How's the girl?"

Rame grinned. "Better behaved than Kalinitch, that much I'll tell you."

"I'm serious."

"Seriously?" Rame said. "She's one hell of a catch, Vhetin. While I was checking her wounds, I ran a facial-recognition program on my helmet's HUD and crosschecked it with the name she gave me. Then I had Jaing back on Mandalore hack her file and send it to me."

"He got it done fast," Vhetin said. "You were only gone for a few minutes."

"He's probably bored. But guess what came back?"

Vhetin raised an eyebrow in curiosity while Rame pulled up a hacked Imperial data file.

"Jayshiea Elmerie Naire-Kolta," Rame said as the file appeared on the largest holoscreen in the cockpit. "Fifth child of Cado Kolta and Antonyea Naire. Has six siblings, can you imagine?"

The Imperial record popped up with a column of numbers indicating age, height, date of birth, date of medicinal vaccinations, et cetera. The holopic attached to the report showed the image of an attractive young woman in Imperial uniform with shoulder-length dark brown hair and brown eyes. Stitched in red onto the left side of her uniform chest was the call sign _Phoenix_.

"She doesn't look much like her picture," Vhetin observed.

"Give the bruises a few days to clear up," Rame said. "She'll be back to normal in no time. Let's see what it says here… She was born on Corellia and graduated with flying colors from EduCenter 657-283. Ran into a little trouble with Imperial Law Enforcement while still a teenager for some minor things… trespassing on private property, irritating Imperial Enforcement officers… sounds like she had quite a keen interest in clone troopers when she was a kid. Uh… spent two months in juvenile incarceration for illegal skyhopper racing. She was a child prodigy with aircraft, apparently, but that was not really where her heart was… She applied repeatedly for active duty in the Imperial Navy at the age of sixteen, just after they changed the legal limit for military work…"

Vhetin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Where did she apply?"

Rame grinned. "Get this. She applied first for enlistment with the Stormtrooper 210th platoon, but was turned away on gender-based issues. She was apparently pretty steamed about that and tried to take it all the way to the Courts, but no one would listen. She then applied for Imperial Special Forces, but was turned away again, this time because she had too little experience in the field. For the next year, her application popped up in nearly every combat outfit the Empire had to offer. The girl's got some spunk, huh?"

"She sounds like quite the patriot," Vhetin murmured. "Can we trust her with her obvious infatuation with the Empire's fighting forces?"

"Well, let's keep looking here… uh, she eventually landed a job as a fighter pilot with the 603rd fighter unit. Local name… uh, _Phantom Squadron_. Over the next few years, she rose in rank until she was a full captain. Not bad."

"Not bad at all." Vhetin frowned thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Well that's where it all hit the fan, apparently. About three months ago, this Phantom Squadron – among others - was dispatched to what's left of the Malachor system to mop up a little uprising happening there. Apparently these revolutionaries knew more and were better armed then the Empire thought. They were waiting for the Imps and eventually tore through them like a nexu through glimmersilk sheets. Out of about fifty pilots, our girl was the only survivor."

"A testament to her piloting abilities."

"Yeah, well the Empire didn't see it that way," Rame said, squinting as he read. "She was accused and condemned for giving away battle plans and selling out her fellow pilots for a rather hefty sum. Her credit account spiked upwards of a hundred thousand creds in under twenty-four hours."

He let out a low whistle and said, "When the mighty fall, they take everyone else down with them, huh?"

"She didn't do it."

Rame blinked and glanced over at Vhetin. "What?"

"She didn't do it. Tammer said she's innocent, and I believe him."

"Cin, the credit account statistics came with the file," Rame said. "The money's all there."

"It was planted," Vhetin said. "By the Empire."

Rame frowned. "Come on, Cin. I know you've had some rough deals with them in the past, plus the whole Fett thing, but-"

"The Empire has the wealth of a million worlds at its disposal. A hundred K? Pocket money for them."

Rame shrugged. "Okay, good point. But why? Why would the Empire give up a hundred thousand creds just for the heck of it?"

"Why does the Empire do any of the crazy things they do? They want to look good. These records show that the money wasn't wired to her account until a day or so after the battle was over. Now to most people, this looks like she was given the money around when her employer received confirmation that the mission had gone to hell. Typical illegal thought process, right?"

"Right."

"But a day after the battle, the Empire would have known they'd gotten their asses kicked when their pilots didn't comm back with a report. And it doesn't take a genius to see that they needed a scapegoat. Since this woman was the only survivor, she was perfect scapegoat material, whether she wanted to be or not."

"So why did they go through so much trouble to interrogate her? I mean, if they knew it was all a lie, why would they bother?"

"Her captors had nothing to do with it; I'm guessing only members of the upper echelon of her Navy outfit even know about the real reasons for the failure of the mission. They probably fed the whole 'traitor' bit to the Emperor himself. It's all propaganda."

Vhetin leaned back in the pilot's seat and rubbed his chin again. "What does the psych report say?"

Rame blinked a few times, then said, "Vhetin, has anyone ever told you how smart you get when you're cranky?"

"Brianna's pointed that out several times, yes. What's the psych report say?"

Rame turned back to the holo. "Well, it says here that she is… highly intelligent, able to process information at intervals faster than most humans are capable of... she gets along well with others, and is efficiently able to work as part of a team. She's got good ratings across the board from the psych analysts. Um… ooh, Vhetin," he made a face, showing mock-disgust. "It says here she has a sarcastic sense of humor and is – Force save us – _witty_."

Vhetin frowned. "Jokes can wait till after we get paid. Now isn't the time."

"Why? What're you thinking?"

Vhetin stared at the woman's holopic for several seconds before saying, "She sounds like she would make a good bounty hunter herself. Maybe even a good partner, given time. She would need some training, but…"

Rame started. "What?"

"You heard."

"You can't be serious. I mean, consider the recent partners you've worked with! List them: Kalinitch, Durge, Im'ran, Oppis-"

"You," Vhetin pointed out.

"I'm not joking any more, Cin. These guys were the toughest of the tough, and they all got stupid and tried to whack you! I don't know about you, but I'mbeginning to notice a pattern there."

"Is there any more in the psych file?"

Rame shook his head and pulled down the file. "Nope. That's it. But let's just pretend I agree. I think she sounds like she's the perfect partner for you, _vod_. In fact, let's bring up _your_ psych evaluation and compare them, shall we?"

Vhetin grimaced and moved to leave his seat, but Rame pushed him back down and said, "No, sit down. I'm not done with my tirade."

"Come on, Rame, cut me some slack-"

"No, no, no," Rame said, typing in some commands. "I'm just evaluating your position."

After a few moments, Jay's file disappeared, only to be replaced by another Imperial record. The personnel holopic had been deleted, replaced with the words 'Classified Tier 3' in red letters.

"Hmm," Rame said, reading through the psych report. "Now what does this say? 'Subject shows extreme detachment from social roles... borderline sociopathic... shows inclination towards self-destructive tendencies, despite apparent mental stability... vague past... overall: subject is not suitable for standard infantry. Recommendation: solitary special forces."

Rame looked at Vhetin and raised an eyebrow. "Now do those two psych reports seem to match up? Why no, I suppose they _don't_."

Vhetin grimaced again, then said, "But you're leaving out all the good parts of the report, look..."

He leaned closer to the screen and began to read aloud, "Shows good social skills after some time, probably due to built-up 'trust'... able to keep self-destructive tendencies in check... extremely flexible with teamwork and is able to function both as leader and follower in a team... shows extreme problem-solving abilities... Addendum: Recommendation: special forces, _two_-man team."

He sat back in the pilot's seat and said, "I've always worked better with a partner. You know this."

Rame shook his head. "I don't know, Vhetin. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Let's just see what happens when we get to Nar Shadda. For all we know, she'll want to jump ship there and it won't even matter."


	10. ACT FOUR: Chapter 1

ACT 4: Chapter 1

__**Nar Shadda, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space**

Jay felt the world lurch slightly as the ship landed, waking her from a deep sleep. She glanced around the crew's quarters where she was resting, then sat up and glanced over at a digital chrono displayed on the far wall. She'd been sleeping for almost thirteen hours.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She hadn't realized it, but after three months of being imprisoned, being free was exhausting.

She swung her legs off the cot, but didn't stand. Her mind was drifting back to Corulag. The last thing she remembered was Vader beating her against the tabletop repeatedly when she wouldn't give him the name of her nonexistent employer. The next thing she knew, she was onboard this ship in the company of two bounty hunters. If there was ever a more dramatic turn of events, she didn't know what it was.

The hunter she'd spoken to – Rame, that was his name – had said Tammer had called them. She worriedly hoped her friend was all right. The thought of the old clone bearing the brunt of the Empire's wrath made her shudder.

She stood, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and left the room, emerging into the large central corridor that looked like it spanned the entire length of the ship.

Curious... being in the Navy, she'd become familiar with all the ships favored by the galaxy's worst: pirates, mercenaries, terrorists, criminal organizations, and bounty hunters alike. This ship, though... she didn't recognize anything about it. And she was sure she didn't know what use it would be to a bounty hunter.

She crossed the hall, searching for the fresher if the ship had one. She thumbed the opening stud on the small control panel next to a reinforced durasteel door. The panel buzzed harshly and started speaking in a language she didn't understand. She jumped and backed away, deciding to try another door further down the hall.

This door opened smoothly and she hesitantly stepped inside, glancing around the small room. It sure wasn't the refresher. Large cages, laced with ray-shield lining, were anchored to the wall. The ray-shields were invisible, but shimmered in the air like a heat wave in the desert. Apart from the cages, the room was devoid of any kind of furniture or equipment.

"I suppose you had something to do with this as well," a sullen voice suddenly said. Jay gasped and spun towards the sound.

General Luun was slouched against the wall, held captive within one of the cages. His nose was caked with dried blood, his hair was unkempt, and his uniform was smeared with dirt. He looked up at her with tired eyes and sighed.

"Leave it to bounty hunters to be bold enough – or stupid enough – to lay siege to an Imperial prison just to get at a single general. And to get _you _of course."

Jay shook her head. "No, I was a more recent addition to their plan."

"Oh?" Luun raised an eyebrow. "And how, exactly do you fit into their plan?"

She hesitated. She wondered how much she should reveal to the general. Part of her said that he was one of the Imperials who had ordered her execution and torture. But another part of her, bolstered by her military training, told her that he was a superior officer. That made his question an order.

"I'm just hitching a ride," she finally said. "Then I'm out of the Empire's way for good."

Luun snorted. "So you think. There's nowhere you can go where we won't find you. We have the entire galaxy within the palm of our hand. No matter where you go, we'll be right behind you."

Jay felt cold fury rise within her, suppressing the memories of old military protocol. She gestured to the room around her, at the cages in particular. "Seeing the predicament you're in right now, _sir_," she said, putting extra emphasis on the word, "I don't think you'll be one of the ones behind me. I've got a chance at a new life. Wherever _you're_ going is definitely not going to be pretty."

Luun glared at her for a few moments. But when Jay just glared right back, he sighed and turned away.

"Why are bounty hunters after someone as insignificant as you in the first place?" she asked.

Luun shrugged, still not looking at her. "I was in charge of a prison facility on Ryloth twelve years ago. And my men's favorite pastime happened to be Twi'lek hunting."

Jay's lip curled in disgust and horror. "That's awful."

"And I allowed them to continue, even after the natives threatened to rise up against us. It kept the men sharp and their morale high. Subsequently, I was transferred to BlueSend, where there were no natives to incite into rebellion. But since then, certain Twi'lek crime lords have placed substantial prices on my head. Your barbarian friends must have taken a contract to bring me in."

"You should be more thankful they decided to bring you in alive," she pointed out.

Luun glared up at her and sneered. "You think you're in a position to mock me? You think you have it _better _than I do? You're almost directly responsible for the destruction of the entire prison! The Empire will have Law Enforcement on you the _moment_ you go near a civilized system. Your bounty hunter pals caught me; it's only a matter of time before our people get _you_."

"_Your _people," Jay corrected angrily. "I've got nothing to do with the Empire any more. You are all murderous, scum-sucking liars. And as for you, Luun? You deserve whatever fate these crime lords have cooked up for you. It's better than what you had planned for me."

As she turned to leave the room, still quivering with rage, Luun laughed and called after, "Vader was right about you! You sold your squadron out for _credits_. I think you'll fit right in with these immoral mercenaries."

"You won't be alive to see it," Jay shot back over her shoulder.

Luun fell silent and wrapped his arms around his knees as Jay let the door slam shut. With a frustrated sigh, she turned into the corridor and ran headlong into what seemed like a wall of metal. She heard a grunt of surprise as she staggered back slightly. When she looked to see who – or what – she'd run into, she saw the other bounty hunter that was working with Rame, the quiet one she hadn't met personally yet. Cin Vhetin.

"I'm sorry," he said, his quiet voice barely audible as he inclined his helmeted head. "I didn't see you."

"No, it's my fault," Jay said a little distractedly. She stared at the man, studying him closely. She was interested to know more about the man who had rescued her from her incarceration.

He was about her height, a little taller since he was able to look down at her slightly. He was clad in dull black battle armor with two gray stripes over where his left eye would be and had a single large gray stripe down his chest. Though the paint on his armor had faded slightly, it didn't bear many battle scars.

Jay frowned at that. Many of the soldiers she'd seen during her employ in the military had sported their battle scars with pride. They wore armor that was covered in scratches, blaster burns, even dents. The fact that this man had next to none suggested that he had either seen little of combat or was skilled enough that he hadn't been shot often. Jay couldn't tell which, but was willing to bet on the latter.

An assortment of brown leather ribbons dangled from his right arm and shoulder, a kind of decorative drape that made his armor look slightly exotic. And, if Jay saw it correctly, he was wearing some kind of combat skirt, black like the rest of his armor. She'd seen stormtrooper commanders and ARC troopers wear similar garments, which they called a _kama_.

The sinister-looking T-visor of his battle helmet seemed to stare right through her and she shuddered slightly as he regarded her intently, obviously studying her as closely as she was watching him. He bore the unmistakable air of a warrior, yet something about him made her uneasy. She couldn't quite put her finger on why.

He finally held out his hand and said, "It's good to see you up and about. Rame was worried you wouldn't pull through."

She slowly shook the offered hand, still staring at him.

She was surprised by his voice, mostly. She had almost expected either some rough, gravelly, sneering drawl similar to the kind she had heard pirates use, or a voice similar to a clone trooper's. She had heard that the clone template had been Mandalorian. But his voice was quiet and calm, bearing no accent of any kind. His voice was almost completely forgettable, something she was sure came in handy in his line of work.

She could tell instantly that this was no mindless mercenary; a sharp mind lay behind the metal of that helmet. This was a man to be reckoned with.

She hesitantly said, "You... you're the one who rescued me from that prison, right? Cin Vhetin?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"I remember..." a memory rose unbidden to mind, of the blurry image of a man in black battle armor carrying her through fire and explosions. "I think I remember you helping me out of that cell. Thank you."

He nodded, again with that kind of slow warrior's grace, and said, "You're welcome. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to take care of."

He stepped past her, pulled a pistol from its holster on his hip, and keyed open the door to the room full of cages. As he stepped inside, she heard him say, "Come on, general. You've got a date with a pretty pissed-off crime lord."

He shoved Luun out through the door and led him down the hall at gunpoint. As the bounty hunter passed her, he said, "Let me deal with this scum first, then we'll drop you off at the nearest starport. From there you can get to wherever you need to go."

She nodded and watched him push the Imperial General down the hall. She felt a strange kind of satisfaction as the whimpering coward was led towards the exit ramp at the back of the ship. The man was a spineless menace, and he was finally getting what he deserved.

She turned away, towards the sleeping quarters, and didn't look back.


	11. ACT FOUR: Chapter 2

ACT 4: Chapter 2

The ramp groaned as it lowered to the landing pad beneath. The hiss of coolant jet spraying up to cool down the engines tossed Vhetin's _kama_ around, making him look even more threatening as he strode onto the landing pad, dragging the esteemed General Luun behind him. Luun was bound and gagged and was crawling on his knees behind him, whimpering.

Vhetin's helmet darkened slightly to compensate for the blindingly bright lights of Nar Shadda's entertainment district. Thousands of holographic signs offered means of recreation and pleasure to a hundred different species, some of it legal, most of it less so. And that was just in the few hundred feet that he could see with the naked eye.

His helmet's audio dampers attempted to muffle the roar of thousands of speeders and ships as they passed overhead. They were only partially successful. Nar Shadda, the medium-sized moon of the larger planet Nal Hutta, had a population of trillions. The moon's skylanes had been bustling day in and day out for thousands of years and it seemed unlikely that that would stop any time soon.

He set off across the pad as he saw his employer, the blue-skinned Twi'lek known as King Laatu, waiting on the opposite end of the platform.

"Here he is, as promised," he said as he approached, throwing Luun in front of him. "One Imperial General, as per your instructions."

King Laatu, clothed in an expensive black nexu-fur robe and carrying a long metallic scepter, reached out a single long-nailed hand and caressed Luun's head. "_Ah, my friend_," he said in Huttese. "_How I have waited for this moment. Twelve long years I have waited, watching you from the shadows as you allowed your men to slaughter my people, all while you watched from your plush, comfy offices and barely batted an eylash_."

When Luun - who obviously didn't understand Huttese - whimpered in fear, Laatu jerked back, a smile stretching across his dark blue lips.

"_What, you don't enjoy the company of the great King Laatu_?" He gestured to the city around him. "_You don't enjoy the beautiful sights of Nar Shadda_?"

Luun still didn't understand, and began to whimper harder. King Laatu's face broke into a full grin, revealing stained black teeth. He knelt in front of the general and pinched his face in one hand.

"Know this, Imperial," he said in heavily accented Basic. "For all my many faults, I love my people. And what you have done has brought immeasurable anger and hatred to my court. You _hunt _my people for _sport_? No, no, no, no. Now what shall happen is I shall turn you loose on Nar Shadda and _my _men will hunt _you_. See how sporting your little game truly is."

Vhetin raised an eyebrow. He was damned if he went through all the trouble to bring the general here only to have Laatu let him escape. "If he gets away, you have my number."

King Laatu laughed and stood. "_Ah, Vhetin my old friend_," he said, reverting back to Huttese, "_how is the galaxy treating you?_"

"Better than in the past," Vhetin didn't bother to speak Huttese. He knew Laatu could understand him all the same.

Laatu stepped forward and grasped Vhetin's shoulders in a ceremonial Twi'lek embrace. "_It means a great deal to me that you were willing to hunt down this... this _schutta," he spat in Luun's general direction as he said it, "_even at the price you proposed._

"_My people are in your debt_," he said. "_Please accept this token of our appreciation._"

King Laatu held out his intricately detailed durasteel-cortosis alloy scepter. "_It has been in my family for over eight hundred years. It would do it a great honor to pass into the hands of a warrior such as you._"

Vhetin pushed the staff away. "No disrespect intended, Laatu, but I came for the money, not your staff."

King Laatu grinned. "_Still the same old Vhetin, eh? Very good, because I was not about to give you my family's most prized possession as payment for a simple revenge bounty anyway._"

He barked at his thugs to step forward. One of them, a Gammorean, lumbered up, holding a datapad in his meaty hand. He held it out to Vhetin.

Vhetin took the pad as King Laatu said, "_Plug in the number of your account, and the money will be transferred with the push of a button._"

Vhetin nodded and entered the number of one of his many "ghost" accounts; credit accounts that served as waypoints for the money as it passed through a confusing chain of different societies, banks, and organizations before finally ending up in his private account, safely laundered and completely untraceable.

Once satisfied that the money was all there, he handed the pad back to Laatu, who tucked it into his dark robe. Laatu bowed and said, "_And once again, our business is done, Cin Vhetin. I wish you many happy hunts for your future. Preferably in my employment, not against it._"

Vhetin inspected his personal credit summary on his HUD. Yep, the money was all there. "Keep coming through on your payments, Laatu," he said, "and I'll keep coming back to work for you."

"_Of course. It's just good business._"

King Laatu spun, his robe flowing out behind him, and barked at his thugs, "_Bring the Imperial! We have much to do!_"

Vhetin turned silently and strode back up the ramp into his ship. This job was done.


	12. ACT FOUR: Chapter 3

ACT 4: Chapter 3

Jay keyed open the door to the cockpit. The two bounty hunters were seated within, each busy with their own separate tasks.

Vhetin was piloting the ship towards the nearest starport, staring rigidly out the viewport and keeping his eyes fixed on incoming ships. His fingers flashed across the ship's controls with a familiarity that came only with years of experience.

Rame was on comms with someone. Jay couldn't tell who seeing as she wasn't wearing Rame's comm headset. As she listened, Rame said, " Yes, yes, we're both fine. We have one last thing to take care of, then we're on our way home. Uh-huh. I love you too, baby. Good-bye."

Jay paused, surprised. Did Rame have a wife or something? She hadn't thought bounty hunters had personal lives. She had always thought that they were ruthless, greedy anarchists, barely above criminals in the social pecking order.

_ I guess that's another prejudice that's been proven wrong_, she thought.

Rame swiveled in his seat and faced her. "Hi, there," he said. "Thought of the place you're going to spend your glorious vacation?"

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, still a little hung up by the conversation she'd overheard. Then she blinked and said, "Actually yes. Mandalore."

There was silence throughout the cockpit.

"_What_?" Rame finally said. "I mustn't have heard you right."

"You heard just fine," Jay said. "Mandalore."

Rame raised an eyebrow and he glanced in Vhetin's direction. The other bounty hunter made no motion to acknowledge the man's gaze.

"That's... very flattering," Rame said after a few long moments. "But Mandalore isn't exactly the galaxy's greatest vacation spot. I mean, I guess the woods are pretty and Keldabe's a riot on the weekend when all the drunks come out to play, but-"

She shook her head. "You don't understand. I don't want to go there to lay low. I want to become a bounty hunter. And I want you to teach me."

Rame started in surprise. He obviously hadn't expected her to say that. He scratched his head in confusion, and even the incommunicative Vhetin tipped his head towards them slightly, listening in on the conversation.

"But why?" Rame asked. "You seem like a nice enough girl. Why don't you head out to Naboo, find yourself an equally nice guy and, you know, settle down? Why do you want to be a _bounty hunter_?"

"You sound very disparaging of your own profession," Vhetin said quietly.

Rame glared at the man, then turned back to Jay, expecting an answer.

"I want to become a bounty hunter," Jay said, "because before Vhetin dropped him off, I had a conversation with General Luun. And I suddenly realized that the galaxy is filled to the _brim_ with people like him: corrupt, arrogant, manipulative, cowardly _schuttas_ who need to be shown that they don't control everyone."

Rame raised an eyebrow. "So... you want to single-handedly make the galaxy a better place?"

"No." Jay shook her head. "But I do want to punish the people who framed me and threw me in prison. Them and everyone else like them."

Again, Rame glanced at Vhetin. Jay got the distinct impression that in the end, all this was up to him.

After a moment the bounty hunter shrugged and said, "If that's her choice..."

Rame looked back at her and said, "I hope you understand what you're doing. Bounty hunting isn't what you've seen in holovids. It's a lot more intense than you'd think. You'd have to be trained from the ground up. And, no offense, but you'd have to be a lot tougher than you are right now."

She nodded. "I can do that."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

She was telling the truth. While in the Navy she had befriended many people and had enjoyed her time there. But in the back of her mind, she'd always known that she was only there because she had exhausted all her other options. Now, she felt like she was making a serious decision, one that she knew would pay off in the end.

Vhetin set the ship on autopilot for a moment and spun in his seat. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Once you decide to do this, there's no going back. You either go all the way and give it everything you've got... or you die."

"Is that a threat?"

He shook his head. "Just a plain and simple fact. This galaxy has too many amateur bounty hunters who have no clue what they're doing. And hunting is a rough trade. The margin for error is very, _very_ small. Out there, it's survival of the fittest."

She hesitated, then nodded. "I understand."

He nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the ship's controls without another word.

Rame stared at her, then back to Vhetin. After a moment he shrugged and said, "All right then. Mandalore it is. Vhetin?"

"Already on our way," the bounty hunter replied as he pulled out of Nar Shadda's skylanes and headed for open space. A few minutes later, the space outside the viewport began to burn red-hot as the ship fought its way out of the planet's atmosphere. Jay slid into the gunner's seat and gripped the edges of the chair as the deck beneath her feet began to shake.

Once they had broken free of the atmosphere and the ship's interior had calmed, Rame glanced up at her again.

"Last chance," he said. "You're sure you know what you're doing?"

She took a deep breath, knowing this was either going to be the best choice she had ever made or the worst possible mistake she would ever know. Then she nodded silently.

"Then buckle up," Vhetin said, "and prepare for lightspeed."

He pulled a lever down, and the stars became blurs. A moment later, the ship blasted into hyperspace, leaving the glowing orb of Nar Shadda far behind.

_To be continued in _Star Wars: White Snow: Preparation

**Author's Note: So here's the first installment, re-written and re-formatted to be a little easier to read. I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review if you did. I love getting feedback. _Oya, vode!_**


End file.
